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theonewiththefanfics · 5 months

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Love Conquers All (one-shot)

Synopsys: The wedding is finally afoot. Astarion and his love have fought for it tooth and nail, but could there be more to life after happily-ever-after?

Set after the main events of BG3 This is a follow up to Homecoming (one-shot). Would probably advise reading it beforehand :)

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff, maybe a bit of angst, insecure Astarion, but just pure teeth-rotting fluff

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, mentions of SA

Word count: 8875

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

Astarion knew ever since he met Y/N, she was the only one he could imagine spending the rest of his life with. They had gone through hells and back for one another, quite literally going head-to-head with a devil. They’d fought for their happily ever after tooth and nail, and now, the biggest day of their lives (yet) was here.

The vampire spawn woke up from his trance jittery and excited for what was to come. It had been ages since he’d felt this way, such joy while looking forward to what the day had installed for him because he was finally going to marry the love of his life.

Their day would be perfect, Astarion had done everything to ensure it. He’d taken to wedding planning like a cat to cream, making sure that once their day arrived, even the smallest detail would be flawless.

It had taken them two years to settle on a time of the year, let alone a date, but that had given him enough time to grow the flowers for the arrangements that now decorated their house, fussing with them like one would with a child (and sometimes threatening a certain rose if it didn’t grow the way he wanted it to). He even invertedly created a couple of new variates in the process, but those were specifically relegated as the flowers Y/N would weave in her hair for the ceremony.

He had even meticulously studied cookery books, having his parents along with his love be his taste testers, seeing he couldn’t really enjoy eating human food, but he’d be damned if something disgusting would be served in his house, no less on his wedding day. Unless it had a ten out of ten approval from everyone involved, Astarion scrapped the recipe and started over. He was fairly certain the caterers hated him because he’d made them prepare the food before and until they got it absolutely right, he was on their asses day and night.

But if he had to pick a favourite process throughout all the planning, it was when Y/N had come to him late one night as he burrowed himself in his sowing room and requested, that he design and make her wedding dress. Astarion almost got down on his knees in reverence as she looked at him with such tender eyes. And, well, let’s just say – during fittings, his hands might’ve skimmed the inside of her thighs on more than one occasion, and his head might’ve slipped below the skirt to taste between her legs, wholly unprofessional.

Oh, and that dream of a house with a grand library, where shelves of books stretched from one corner to the other, and a large ballroom to host parties until daylight broke – no longer was it a simple dream, but rather his reality. Not only that, he could hear people fussing all across the house as hired staff prepared final details and decorations for the ceremony.

The new house, or let’s be honest, the manor, Astarion and Y/N lived in, had not come easy though. He’d pretty much brought his lover to the end of her wits when they’d gone on the search for their dream home. In the end, it boiled down to her threatening to make them live in the forest like Halsin, sleeping on the hard ground, if he didn’t come to a decision.

Astarion was aghast at the suggestion, crossing his arms and pouting hard. “Why are you so upset about this?” He couldn’t understand what the big issue was with him being so picky. “We’re looking for the place to start our new lives in! It has to be no less than absolute excellence! Do you not want that?”

“Of course, I do!” Y/N rolled her eyes, putting her half-drunk wine glass on the bedside table and shifting her body to completely face him. “But nothing is perfect in this world, Star.”

When he narrowed his scarlet gaze at her, she huffed and shifted to sit on her knees, cupping his face between her palms. “Nothing in life is without its flaws, but that’s the beauty of it all. It gives us a chance to grow and change. And it’s the same with a house. Floors are fixable. Sofas and divans can be reupholstered. Walls can be repainted, those dilapidated wallpapers ripped off, hells we can knock the wall down if we want to… but we will never find our perfect home if we don’t put the work in and make it ourselves.”

Y/N’s soft thumb ventured up to smooth out the grumpy lines that had appeared on Astarion’s forehead. “If you want perfect, you have to do the work to make it so. Because that last house we saw, the one you said could be ours, if it didn’t have those stains on the table or that feeling wallpaper or the hole in the roof that needs fixing – that was someone else’s perfect home because they made it that way.”

Astarion scrunched his nose. “Did a shitty job, that’s for sure.”

If Y/N could roll her eyes any harder, he was sure they’d get stuck in the back of the skull like that. “My point is, we have to make it that way. Yes, the whole process will be long and tedious and I’m fairly certain, there will be moments where we want to kill each other, because, gods forbid, I want the blackout curtains to be emerald not burgundy. But none of that will matter because it will be ours… what can be more perfect than that?”

The vampire always had a comment on the tip of his tongue, he always had a sarcastic remark or some sort of critique to offer, but to this, he had nothing to reply, as he pondered the words.

Y/N tilted her head, a smile blooming on her lovely mouth. “I know you want everything to be exactly how you see it in your head, right from the very start. I know you don’t want to fight anymore, and gods, my love, you don’t deserve to fight for anything, but this isn’t it… this is change. And I think you’re more scared than annoyed at all the little things that might need mending.”

Astarion averted his gaze, looking past Y/N and to the window, the bright light of the moon illuminating the woods beyond. From the corner of the eye, he could see her engagement ring, the ruby glinting like a star in the sky. A finger brushed over his brow, soothing him. “I think you’re nervous to go after what you want, so you’re trying to find any possible reason as to why every house we’ve viewed has had something unfixable to it.”

Closing his eyes, Astarion leaned into her touch. “I hate it when you can see through me like that.” He hated to admit it. It felt like some sort of weakness to be seen so clearly, but he also knew Y/N would never judge him for his fears. But it was still hard to voice them. “I just – I’m scared it will be different.”

“It will be.” She shrugged. “But different doesn’t mean it’ll be bad.”

He didn’t seem convinced though as his mind and attention drifted off, and she had to tilt his chin towards her, a kiss to his forehead bringing him back into the moment. “My Star, we can always stay right where we are. I love this house. And as long as we’re together, it doesn’t matter where we make our home.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, my love,” Astarion let out an undignified scoff. “As darling as this place is, I still want that library. And, well, maybe a tailoring room would be lovely. And I can’t say I would be opposed to a walk-in closet, instead of that little dresser we have now.”

More and more his lips turned into a smile and his gaze lightened as they went on until the morning dawned, talking and mapping out what their perfect abode would be like. They talked about the colours of the walls, where they’d like to hang paintings and how many mattresses their bed should have. Astarion insisted on at least three, so it would feel like resting on a cloud. Y/N thought it was a bit ridiculous, but if that was what he wanted, it’s what he would get. As long as he promised her to have separate duvets, the cover hog that he was.

They settled on a manor near the city, but far enough from the crowds to still keep some sort of privacy. She had been right about the restorations being long and mind-numbingly taxing and took them over a year and a half to return the manor to its former glory. All of their funds sank into it, and as Y/N had also warned – there came a moment where it seemed like they would rip one another’s heads off, having to spend a night in separate rooms. But now they got to relish in the fruits of their labour as the ballroom Astarion had manifested was being transformed into their wedding chapel.

He lazily stretched out his limbs, curling around his still-sleeping love. If he’d had a tail, the cat that he was, he would weave it over Y/N’s middle and curl it, trying to pull her closer if possible.

The woman grumbled something unintelligible, tightening the hold she had on one of the four pillows she had.

“Good morning, my wife. Our big day is here. Time to get up.” Gently, he brushed strands of wild hair from her face, placing them behind her ear, to which he leaned down and gave a playful nibble. To Astarion’s delight, he felt a shiver run down her spine, her toes curling against where she’d pressed them to his calf.

“Not your wife yet,” Y/N grumped, turning so that she could hide her face in the crook of his neck, tickling the sensitive skin there with warm puffs of breath. “And your bride needs her beauty sleep unless you wish for her to look like a troll at the altar. Didn’t give me much of it last night.”

A wicked grin formed on his mouth, one incisor lightly biting on her earlobe. “I didn’t hear you complaining though. In fact, I didn’t hear you say anything but my name.”

Teasing fingers brushed against her ribs and the underside of her breasts, a breath hitching in Y/N’s chest. When he splayed his hand against her stomach, she hummed in pleasure, the sound reverberating through his chest and seeping into his bones.

Her own palms moved from hugging Astarion’s side to his back, nails softly scratching up and down the skin there – so very tenderly over the scars, but with a bit of a bite right above his rear. If he could purr, he would be, but alas, he just moaned and melted like an icicle in the sun.

It was almost tempting to just stay in the bed like that, twining together and just relishing in one another’s touch.

“When are your parents getting here?” Y/N yawned and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “Your mother promised to help me with the dress and hair.”

“Right as the sun goes down. We should have plenty of time before the moon is high.”

They had decided on a night-time wedding, so the following celebrations could be moved outside into the lavish gardens Astarion had so lovingly created. He may not be able to walk in the sun anymore, but he’d be damned if he didn’t enjoy at least the moonlight. Besides, daytime weddings were so casual, and he was anything but.

He rested his palm in between Y/N’s breasts, but he just kept it there, didn’t try and stray any further. He simply wanted to feel how her heart beat against his palm, the rhythm a steadying and grounding feeling, and it somewhat calmed his fluttery nerves.

“Then we have a few more hours to sleep,” came Y/N’s slurred response as she hitched a leg over his naked hip, but she didn’t try to go any further either. “And you are not getting out of this bed, my personal pillow.”

Astarion smiled at her words and kissed her forehead. He’d been smiling an awful lot since he met her. “Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”

And even though he itched to go downstairs and supervise every single thing, he allowed the peace that came with being next to Y/N to settle over him as well. It was their day. His day. And starting it off with his little human sweetheart wrapped around him like a vine, keeping him close to her, was nothing short of wonderful.

At some point, she did fall asleep again, Astarion’s movements as his deft fingers massaged the back of her head, lulling her to dreamland. His mind drifted a bit but remained more alert than when he tranced, wandering to how exactly he’d gotten to a moment where in just a few little hours he’d become someone’s husband.

Not only did he have Y/N, but he had his parents to relish in the moment with. He had friends, something that was competently out of the question for two hundred years, and all of them would be arriving to witness the most joyous day of his life. Him! With friends! He even had a true sister, something that’d surprised even him.

That had come about when Astarion had ventured into the Underdark once and reconnected with Darylia. At first, he’d thought there would be too much bad blood between them, no pun intended. It’s why he’d strayed away from the region after he’d freed the rest of the seven thousand spawn from Cazador. Too many painful memories bound them, but instead of admonishments, he found comfort.

He’d bumped into Dalyria at a tavern as he was tracking down an artefact. Astarion was nothing short of astonished when she invited him to a tavern for a drink. The conversation was awkward at first, but as they talked more and more, she seemed to be actually happy for him as he confirmed he was still with Y/N, had a little house by the forest to call their own and spent his days keeping in touch with the party that’d formed during the tadpole adventure while trying to get a sowing business off the ground. She was even more ecstatic to hear when Astarion announced he was engaged.

Dal had a wistful smile on her face. “I would be a liar if I said I didn’t envy you, but… you deserve it. All that happiness… after what Cazador put you through, you deserve all that’s good.”

He didn’t want to, but a ball formed in his throat at her words. “Cazador wasn’t kind to any of us.”

“No,” she mussed. “But you did free us from him. And when you had the chance to take his power for yourself, to become the most powerful vampire in existence, you didn’t. You allowed us to go out there and regain the years we lost under his control. To make our own lives. For that, you deserve only the best.”

A snort escaped him as he swirled the remains of his wine. “Y/N would say not committing mass murder is quite a low bar, if that’s why I’m worthy of happiness.”

“Maybe, but no one would fault you had you gone for it.”

“Maybe…” Astarion pondered. “But I would not have been worthy of Y/N, then. That is for sure.”

Dalyria clinked her glass of blood against his before emptying it, and he was glad he had not been drinking himself as he sure would have choked on the drink. “Will you teach me how to find love? I – I think I’d like to find what you two have. Become… worthy of having it.”

Astarion didn’t know how to respond, but ultimately said he could only try, yet unless the change came from within, there wasn’t much he could do. And the hardest part wouldn’t be learning how to find love, but learning how to love oneself. Only then you could learn how to love others.

“Seems awfully tedious,” Dalyria’s brow had furrowed.

He chuckled and nodded. “It is. But I’ve learned, as much as it can be boring, it’s worth it in the end.”

It had taken time for the vampire to start the process of self-acceptance and processing the trauma, but Astarion was right there by her side, and now, she would be by his, a partner of her own next to her, a human at that, as he tied the knot.

Y/N’s nose scrunched in her sleep as their blissful moment was interrupted by a bell chiming through the house. She grabbed a pillow and smushed it over her head hitting him in the face in the process. “We should’ve eloped.”

“My love, you know as well as I do, our dear friends would’ve hunted us down like prey and dragged us before an altar by the ears. And honestly – I would help them with that.”

When they had rolled out the announcement of their engagement, Astarion’s mother helping them write beautiful little cards to send to their party most had actually shown up to congratulate them in person.

Karlach had been the first one to arrive, banging on the door to let her in, seemingly bursting with excitement. “If my engine wasn’t fixed, I think I would have levelled a whole block when I got the card!” She jumped up and down as she smothered them in a hug.

The second the Tiefling reluctantly released Y/N and Astarion from her grasp, Shadowheart appeared, a bit more subdued in the way she showed her happiness, but still very much so thrilled. She’d even brought along a bottle of wine, as such an event had to be celebrated.

Gale along with Tara teleported right into the living from straight from Waterdeep, a chest of tomes with him, a gift for the library Astarion wanted.

“I even cancelled today’s lectures, and my students were so delighted, they also got you something.” He extended a smaller box, a gorgeous set of feather pens inside. “A thanks for the day off and congratulations on the engagement.”

Wyll, now Grand Duke, joined the festivities right as the sun started its descent.

“I would’ve come sooner, but duties call.”

“Ever the honourable man.” Astarion hugged the once Blade of Frontiers. “I’m lucky Y/N doesn’t care much for honour, otherwise I would be fighting a losing battle.”

“It’s all the blood loss,” she chimed in, hugging Wyll as he congratulated her. “Questionable decisions are not uncommon when oxygen is depleted in the blood.”

Her vampiric love pointed a finger at her. “Well, there are no takebacks, so deal with it.”

Oh, how far he’d come such jokes didn’t sting, and instead he could laugh at them because he knew she wouldn’t leave him. It was certainly not something he ever had to fear.

Halsin and Lae’Zel were last to join Dalyria accompanying them as the night settled, completing their little group.

They spent hours drinking and laughing, enjoying red drinks, some wine, and some other ethically sourced, of course, substances as they lounged by the fireplace.

“So, when will the actual wedding be?” Gale asked as he stretched over a loveseat, Tara having claimed his lap as a napping spot, her purrs echoing through the room. “I would be more than happy, and well, my students most definitely, to cancel the exams for it. Such an affair cannot be missed. Two heroes of Baldur’s Gate wedding each other.”

Wyll pointed a finger at the wizard. “You know, you are onto something. I might just have to make it a day of celebration in the city!”

“Actually…” Y/N shifted next to Astarion. “We were thinking of just going to a magistrate and signing the papers as soon as possible. Nothing grand really.”

A stunned silence settled before Dalyria snapped her gaze toward her brother. “You must be joking,” she deadpanned. “Astarion, I think you might need to lay off feeding from her for a while.”

“Y/N was thinking that,” he rolled his eyes at the outburst. “I disagree.” Turning on his best pout, the vampire glanced at the woman pressed to his side. “You would so willingly deprive me of seeing you in a wedding dress like it isn’t the most important day of our lives. I, for one, wish for this to be my only wedding, yet you break my heart into pieces with your words.”

Lae’Zel let out her signature “t’chk” of disapproval at Y/N’s amused huff. “I cannot believe I am saying this, but the spawns are right. A ceremony must be held. None of this magistrate nonsense, but a real, proper ceremony.”

“You all just want a party.” The Y/H/C-haired woman crossed her arms over her chest.

Halsin boomed a chuckle. “Well, we will not say no to the one a wedding comes with. But if you do not wish to have your dearest companions, people who love you most in the world, to be next to you on such an important day, that is completely dine. It is your wedding after all.”

“Oh, come on!” Y/N threw her hands up with a laugh. “That is so unfair! I mean, I just don’t care for the pageantry of it all.”

“Sweetheart, you are marrying the most pompous man to walk this earth. No offense, Astarion.” Shadowheart looked at the elf, but he simply shrugged, as it was true. “And you mean to tell me there will be no grand display of love?”

Her lover nodded at the cleric’s words, batting his lashes at Y/N. “Besides, would you truly be so cruel, that you’d deny my parents such a day? After everything they’ve gone through.”

“Alright, now you’re just blatantly blackmailing me.” She gave him a humour-filled look.

Astarion put a hand on his chest in mock outrage. “Blackmail my darling intended? I would never! However, if I were, I would also mention that the ring on your finger did belong to my mother, who so lovingly passed it onto you, saying she wished for you to wear it when she saw you next. You know, just a little information, to tug on your heartstrings.”

And tug at her heartstrings it did, as Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes widened, no doubt mind whirling from the statement.

“This is your mother’s ring?” She looked down at the piece of jewellery like it was the most precious thing in the world. “You didn’t tell me that.”

He didn’t intend for her to cry, but he wiped at her cheeks as a couple of tears rolled down her face. “She gave it to me the night we went to see my parents for the first time. I was already preparing to do it, but it just gave me the final push I needed to actually ask you. Even though I technically never did ask.” Astarion nudged her side, and Y/N snorted, dabbing at the corners of her eyes.

“Wait, hold on.” Dal leaned forward, a scrutinous gaze turned towards the elf. “What do you mean he never asked the bloody question? First no wedding, now no proper proposal?”

Karlach though seemed to have other more pressing thoughts in her head. “Holy shit, Fangs, you robbed your mother’s grave!? I mean that is messed up even for you!”

“Rewind.” Gale swirled a finger in the air. “You have a mother?”

All these questions and statements were said one over the other as the room exploded into a full-blown interrogation, everyone flinging queries their way. It took Astarion and Y/N about an hour to respond and tell the full story, but not before they stopped laughing.

At that moment though, Astarion clad in his silk pyjama set, the face greeting him was so full of delight, Karalch shone brighter than the set sun.

“I feel like I could just burst!” The tiefling hugged him, and he responded in kind. It’d become one of his favourite physical ways to show and receive affection. “But where is the wife-to-be herself?”

“Still in bed. You know Y/N and mornings, well, nights I guess, do not mix.”

“Ah, yes,” a male voice agreed and Karlach stepped aside to allow Wyll to enter. “You know, there were moments during our adventure when I genuinely thought our fearless leader would be the one to end us. Remember that time Gale woke her up before dawn because he needed an artefact to consume? His poor eyebrows.” The Grand Duke shook his head. “Honestly thought it might’ve very well have been the last moments of our dear wizard.”

“And yet, it wasn’t!” As if summoned, the Wizard of Waterdeep himself poofed into existence in the foyer. “I live to see yet another day where I can bless my friends with my presence. Eyebrows intact this time.”

Astarion couldn’t control the eye roll as it was almost reflexive when it came to Professor Gale Dekarios, but he couldn’t deny the happiness rushing through his veins seeing the man. If he ever saw Mystra in the mortal plane, she’d better start praying to a god herself, for what he put his friend through.

“It was… quite the look, I have to say,” Lae’Zel commented as she entered the house, joining their group. It seemed like they had a tendency to appear in the same places at the same time even without scheduling such a thing. “But do not attempt to upstage the bride, Gale. Astarion will already be doing his best. Though if these are your chosen clothes,” she gave him a onceover. “I believe Y/N has absolutely nothing to be concerned about.”

Astarion scoffed. “This is handwoven silk.”

“That is poor excuse for wedding attire.” Shadowheart appeared behind them all. “For once we agree, Lae’Zel, so enough with the chitchatting. A wedding needs to happen, and you need to get dressed.”

The only reason he’d decided to put on some clothes was because the thought of his parents walking in on him naked, was enough to pull out all the stashed winter attire and cover himself up so much nothing but his nose would be showing. Now though, Astarion almost wanted to rip them off just to spite the gathered crowd but abstained.

Before he did scamper off, he showed where they could go and mingle while he checked on the final details, especially how the ballroom was looking, and he had to admit, the drow in charge of decorations had turned it into something from a fairy tale.

The room had high windows, all the shutters open to let in the pale light of the moon garlands hanging from the ceiling and walls, the many mirrors on the sides, giving an effect that the room was larger than it truly was, creating an illiusion of a forest inside their home. At the very end between two columns of chairs was the altar where Shadowheart would officiate, two golden cups already placed on a velvet pillow.

There was hired staff in the gardens where food and drinks were being handed out.

Astarion took in a deep breath and held it for a moment before letting it out. Everything was going to be just fine. He had promised as much to Y/N. This nervousness had been one of the reasons he’d wanted to take on the whole wedding affair onto himself.

“I don’t want you to lift a single finger.” Astarion had brushed his nose against Y/N’s cheek after it was settled a full-blown wedding was happening and their friends had dispersed, leaving the two lovebirds on their own. “Just leave it all to me.”

“I mean, I can’t do that,” she exasperated. “It’s our day. We both should be involved. I won’t put such an event all on your shoulders.”

“But I want you to! Listen to me – me getting to order others around as they have to bend our every wish and whim, while all you have to do is nod for yes, and shake your head for no – sounds like a great time to me.”

“Sounds very unfair to you.” Y/N was still sceptical frowning hard at Astarion’s proposition.

“Look,” he sighed, taking her hand in his. “Let me do this for you. For us. You saved me back when I thought I was beyond it. I fully believed I was relegated to nothing but a life of pain and darkness and then… you showed up. You helped me through so many horrors, held me when it felt like the walls were pressing in… I would not have been able to do so without you. So please… let me make this day something you can enjoy and not have to worry about. I am very convincing when I set my eyes on something I want.”

And when he pulled his puppy dog eyes on her, Astairon knew he had her right where he wanted. Y/N could never resist him when his eyes got all soft and round. He could practically see her resolve melting then and there like fresh-fallen snow.

“Alright,” she conceded, and with a passionate kiss against her lips, he pulled her to sit in his lap. “But if it becomes too much, you have to promise to ask me for help.”

“I swear it.” Astarion pecked her lips once more, and though he had no intentions of letting her lift a finger, he was truthful when making such a vow. With Y/N, he’d learned it wasn’t a crime or sign of weakness to request aid.

He left the door open, surely more guests would be arriving, but before he could disappear, two more frames rushed up the steps, his mother and father practically beaming with pride as they saw him.

“I think your druid friend is also on the way,” his mother said, pressing a light kiss to Astarion’s cheek and pulling him in for a hug. “But he stopped to pet a flock of sheep along the way.”

The vampire snorted. “Well, we can only hope Halsin actually arrives for the ceremony on time. Or doesn’t bring the lambs as guests… appetizers though.”

She gave him an amused smile, before squeezing his hand. “I’ll just go and say hello to that wizard of yours. I think I saw him walking somewhere in the gardens and then I’ll be right up with Y/N. Has the sleeping beauty awoken yet?”

“Yes,” he mumbled, frowning. It was a well-known fact his love was a notorious sleepyhead, but that was not his reason for watching with a grimace how his mother practically skipped to the terrace in search of Gale.

“How does she know him?” he directed the question at the male elf standing beside him.

His father sighed, looking at his wife as she disappeared behind the corner, but not before she made sure she looked good, fluffing up her hair in the mirror before the grand entrance to their house. “She’s been quite obsessed with his cookbook. Just be glad she didn’t bring it along for an autograph. But enough of that. You need to get dressed, my Star. The moon is almost nigh.”

All other thoughts vanished from Astarion’s head as he noted how the white orb was pretty much at its peak, and the notion of getting married suddenly became a tangible thing. In just a few hours, under the pale light, he would vow to protect and cherish Y/N, they’d fill one another’s cups and drink, before tying strands of magical gold around one another’s fingers as a symbol of their unity in the ancient elven traditions. Astarion was about to become a husband with Y/N as his wife. If his heart had still beaten, it would’ve been jumping out of his chest.

“Did you feel like this as well when you married Mother?” the vampire’s hand shook as he entered the sowing room he’d claimed as his dressing room for the day. A naked mannequin stood at the corner. It’d born Y/N’s dress which was now surely being slid onto her frame, perfectly fitting against her body, and it was just another reminder of what was to come.

His father closed the door, going over to a suit that was hanging on another mannequin and slipped it off, laying it gently onto a settee. “Like what, Star?”

“Like unless in twenty seconds this whole thing is over, you’ll pass out.”

The deep chuckle the older elf let out was like a reassuring hug, somewhat calming Astarion. “Yes. Very much so. Add onto that wanting to throw up and black spots across my vision, I was pretty much hopeless. But then I was by the altar waiting for your mother, and when she appeared… nothing else mattered. It’s just the waiting that’s horrible.”

“Gods, maybe Y/N was right,” Astarion breathed out, sitting down by his tailoring table, head in his hands. “We should have definitely eloped. I mean it’s not normal to feel this way, is it?”

“Dear Star, it might have taken us two hundred years to find you, and we’ve only been lucky enough to have you back for two, but make no mistake,” his father deadpanned. “Your mother is not above murder and physical restraint if needed.”

“Yes, I know, you kidnapped my bride,” Astarion said. “But, I mean, what if it’s not perfect?” He looked at the elf. Blue reassuring eyes stared back, but even the conviction he saw in them couldn’t quench the lingering fear. “What if she isn’t there? What if I’m left a fool standing by the altar and she does not come?”

Those last words were barely a whisper, shame running through his veins as he said them, but it had been something plaguing his nightmares for weeks on end – Y/N finally realising she deserved so much better and leaving him heartbroken.

When he awoke in a cold sweat and she asked what was wrong, Astarion wrote it off as having a bad dream about Cazador. In truth, he hadn’t dreamt of his master in a long time, his only fear being Y/N tossing him to the side for something better.

“Astarion,” his father said sternly, but not unkindly. “That woman has walked through literal hells for you. And taken on a devil, as you yourself have told us. I highly doubt now would be the moment she gets cold feet.”

Deep down in his heart, he knew the words rang true. Astarion remembered after having killed Cazador, how strongly the urge to Ascend took over. Such power right at the tips of his fingers, yet at the cost of seven thousand souls. But at that moment, he was willing to pay it. He’d never have to be afraid of anything anymore if he finished the ritual. All he needed was for someone to copy the runes on his back. He’d turned to Y/N, someone who he knew supported him, but to his shock, she refused.

Fury took him over. He’d thrown insults so vile it made bile rise in his throat nowadays when thinking back on it. Words wishing her a painful and slow demise, telling her he hoped she died screaming. Astarion had expected her to leave, yet as his mind had cleared, processing the grief and agony he was going through, she was there by his side.

Even though he didn’t deserve it, Y/N held him as he cried, and whispered comforting words when he could do nothing but slump over himself in physical and emotional exhaustion. She was there for him like an unmovable rock, that not even time or tide could erode.

“I’m sorry,” Astarion had begged that night for her forgiveness while she cradled him in her arms. “I’m sorry for what I said. I was – I was blinded by the power. By what I could be, what I could do… I – reality was no longer visible to me. And I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.” Y/N’s kiss was a balm to his wounds, especially those that no one else but her could see or soothe. “And I forgive you.”

Astarion’s father put a hand on his shoulder, bringing him out of the reminiscing. “She will be there because if there is one thing in this world I don’t doubt, it’s her love for you.”

He wrapped that thought around his heart. She would be there. Y/N would always be there for him. But first, he had to be the one to await her, so with his father’s help, he stood up and got ready.

After a year of getting reacquainted with his parents, he’d told them some of what Cazador had done. With Y/N holding his hand through it, he even felt brave enough to show his scars. There were a lot of tears and hugging, and much to his surprise, talks of resurrecting the vampire lord by his mother, just so she could drive a stake through his heart. And Y/N was very eager to agree.

His love had a vicious glint in her eye, and Astarion had to swallow his arousal as she leaned closer over the table where they’d been drinking afternoon tea and said, “I know how to skin a man and keep him alive the whole time.”

“Yes!” His mother accepted the idea immediately. “Let’s do that! My Star, how do we contact that Withers friend of yours?”

Honestly, the fact that Astarion was the one trying to quench their bloodlust and be the peacekeeper, for a moment, made him think he’d been thrown into some different universe. That was not how he expected the conversation over some tea and biscuits to go.

His father smoothed down the back of the white linen shirt and Astarion tucked it into the white trousers while the older elf helped with the cuffs, onyx squares glinting in the warm light of the candelabras. Looking down, he surveyed the intricate frock he’d slaved over days and nights.

It was matching a ivory to that of Y/N’s dress, the chest decorated with weavings of golden threads, much like what he’d sown across the bodice and through the hemlines of her gown. Astarion smiled, a gentle finger skimming over his work, knowing what the scribbles meant.

To the unknowing, it looked nothing more than a pattern of leaves and flowers, but to those who could read ancient elvish, the truth was laid bare. The idea had struck him late one night as he’d sketched Y/N’s dress. With the help of his parents, as his memory of what once used to be his mother tongue was not so good, he stitched into the fabric little love confessions.

Throughout her wedding attire, he’d sown the words of his undying love, of what she meant to him, and on his own jacket, he’d sown the promises he intended to keep as a husband, to always make sure she was safe and loved.

By the time he was tying the cravat, Astarion’s knees were shaking, and his father had to take over, tucking in the piece of cloth by his chest.

The vampire ran a quivering hand through his white hair. “So?” Gods, even his voice was trembling. How was he supposed to say his vows and not sound like a growing youth whose voice was on the verge of breaking? “How do I look?”

For a moment, his father didn’t say anything, just smoothed down the fabric over his shoulders. “Like a man ready to start the best chapter of his life.”

“Good.” Astarion nodded. “Because now I’m feeling that nausea you talked about.”

The older elf let out a warm laugh before nudging his chin towards the open window and when he looked over, he saw the moon shining bright in the sky, a smattering of millions of stars behind it. “It’s time, Star.”

With a shaky breath, Astarion nodded. He was ready. As long as he remembered how to move his mouth and say words, nothing could go wrong.

As he walked back towards the foyer, gentle music greeted him, meaning the string quartet of bards had arrived and their family and friends were filtering into the ballroom.

It was as if he was floating, barely being able to acknowledge the gathered people. Some patted him on the back, some asked if he was excited, and all of his responses were like through a haze, especially as he took his place by the altar.

Shadowheart was already there, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Don’t you clean up nice.”

Astarion wanted to give some sort of a sarcastic quip, but all he could manage was a hum of acknowledgement. He was really truly, nervous. The breath entering his lungs was shaky and came out the same way. He didn’t even need to breathe, but if he didn’t, he might just pass out.

“If it’s any consolation, Y/N is calm as a cucumber,” the cleric said. “Or maybe she’s just a better actress than you.”

The vampire’s pale brows scrunched, as he looked at the woman. She just shrugged.

“She said she knows you’ll be here. What more is there for her to want or be afraid of?”

And that trust, the belief Y/N had in Astarion, settled something in his heart, and when his parents entered, taking their seats in the front row, both elves beaming, all that fear disappeared like mist in the morning.

Beautiful music swirled around them, and all of the guests stood.

The whole world stopped turning the second he laid his eyes on Y/N.

Her body was clad in the white gown he’d poured all his love and care into, the gold thread shimmering in the candle and moonlight. Her hair was free as she always preferred, but small, intricate braids inlaid with diamonds as if rain had settled atop her head, a flower crown gracing the top of it. Y/N’s skin was also covered in a shimmery powder, that made her absolutely glow, as if from within, and the Y/E/C eyes he loved to get lost in, were lined with kohl giving her gaze an intense look. Had it not been for her rounded ears, Y/N would be the epitome of a true elven queen.

Astarion released a breath that’d gotten stuck in his chest and tears welled in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks.

He’d been lucky, especially in these past few years where he’d been able to witness a lot of beautiful things. But nothing was as beautiful as her walking toward him.

Y/N’s head was high, as her gaze bore into his – his scarlet not looking away from her Y/E/C ones – her lips pulled in the widest smile he’d ever seen on her face.

Gods, she was beautiful, and his ego also revelled in how that grin was directed at him. At only him. It seemed like it took her ages, but at the same time not even a couple of seconds to be standing before him, handing off her bouquet of lilies of the valley to his mother and placing her palms in Astarion’s awaiting ones.

He couldn’t take his eyes off Y/N, but she couldn’t take hers off him. Vaguely he heard Shadowheart offer blessings and words of wisdom for the new couple as they started their joined lives. Astarion only snapped back to reality when it was time for him to take the golden thread and tie it around her finger, an ancient elven tradition – instead of simply exchanging rings, one would take a twine of gold and imbue it with the power of their words, before the vows were sealed.

No longer did his hands shake, and his voice didn’t crack once as he said his vows, as he gently twisted the twine and looped it back around where it moulded together by magic on their own, creating a gorgeous ring.

Then it was Y/N’s turn.

“I vow to protect your life as my own,” her voice was soft and steady as she spoke. “I vow to walk the dark paths and lead you to the light when needed. I promise to be your reassurance when doubts come, and I promise to love you until the stars no longer shine.”

Astarion didn’t care as more tears slid down his cheeks and wetted the neckline of his frock when finally, the golden thread connected and solidified itself on his ringfinger.

He was married. He didn’t care that Shadowheart hadn’t said yet he could kiss his new wife, that they needed to drink the blessed wine from the cups, as he surged forward, taking Y/N by the wrist and smashing their lips together. From somewhere afar he heard whoops and cheers, and a “you could’ve waited for just a second more,” but it was all background noise with no meaning as his love’s palm slid to cup his jaw and pull him in for a deeper kiss.

All the nerves had been worth it. All the pain and suffering he’d gone through – it was all worth it just for that moment alone, when Y/N had to press him back a bit, a breathless laugh escaping her lips as she took in greedy gulps of air, but put her forehead against his, not straying far from his touch.

“I love you, husband.”

His cheeks hurt from so much smiling. “I love you, wife.”

They didn’t get to stay in the small bubble for long as people were stepping up, congratulating them, and pulling them in embraces from left to right.

The revelry slowly moved outside where drinks and food flowed without stopping. Slow melodies turned into fast foot-stomping beats, as people twirled and danced, celebrating the union between two of Baldur’s Gate’s heroes.

It was during a moment of reprieve when Y/N was chugging down glass after glass of water and champagne, Astarion following suit with some blood, when his parents came up to them, a small, yet intricate box in their hands.

The frame was of old oak, no doubt, scuffed at the edges and corners, while the top of it was engraved with a whole flora and fauna piece, but that didn’t matter. He’d said them being at the ceremony would be enough of a gift and that him and Y/N didn’t need anything, yet here the two elves were.

“Don’t even start, my Star,” his mother interrupted Astarion’s rant before he could even go on one. “There was no way we would’ve come empty-handed to your wedding. Besides, we think this might be of great interest to you two. And of use”

Gently, as if the box might crumble if touched any harder, the older elf opened it. Inside, laid on green velvet sat two golden bracelets, their visage moulded like wreaths of leaves and budding flowers.

They were handmade, that was certain, and ancient if his eye for jewels and jewellery didn’t deceive him. And it rarely did. But the oddest bit was the sensation it radiated as if it was imbued by vibrating energy, barely contained in the circlets.

“Could it really be – but no. That is only a legend,” Halsin’s and Gale’s eyes were wide as they beheld what lay in the box as the two had snuck up on the group and shadowed behind them. The druid gave Astarion’s parents a bewildered gaze. “How in the worlds did you come by this?”

“Let’s just say, you are not the only ones with connections.” His father threw Halsin a mischievous smile, but Astarion didn’t like that.

“And the cost for such a thing?”

His mother smiled. “My dear, you talk like your skill of words and stealing didn’t come from somewhere. We might be old, but that doesn’t mean we cannot have adventures of our own.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting this moment,” Gale said, “but can we get back to the fact you have the True Love’s Curse sitting in that box.”

“The what?” Y/N’s brows furrowed, but no one bothered to answer as Gale went on.

“I can feel the magic.” The wizard laid a reverent palm above the bracelets but didn’t touch them. “The Weave… I’ve never felt something so strong. As if it could change the matter of the cosmos around us at any second.”

Astarion lifted a finger, just as confused as his love, pointing at the bracelets. “What exactly is this curse? And, I do apologise, mother, as we appreciate everything you've done for us, but why in the worlds did you think a curse would be a great gift?”

“True Love’s Curse is simply the name,” Halsin said. “It’s an old elven legend of two lovers – one forever meant to walk the dark, the other meant for light. In the myth, they are so convinced they are soulmates and meant to be, they create two bracelets, symbols for their loves, imbued with a mirroring spell, but not just any average enchantment. It gives the nightwalker the ability to walk in the sun, but there is a cost – if the other person is no true love, no soulmate, the nightwalker will succumb to the rays and perish forever.”

Y/N grimaced. “Seems quite harsh. And unfair.”

Astarion’s father closed the box. “It’s why it’s called True Love’s Curse. But if there is anything we all can learn from you two, is that love conquers all.”

Hope ignited in the vampire’s chest, as he accepted the box.

Could there really be a chance he would be able to live his life with Y/N by his side, and also live it in the sun?

He used to be scared of what the future held for him, especially what the future with Y/N would be like. He’d had his doubts – that she probably didn’t actually love him. How she was with him only for pity or to use his body like so many others had before – but those no longer existed. She’d meticulously shattered every single brick of the wall that was his mistrust and built a castle of love in his heart. If what Astarion’s parents said was true, he had nothing to worry about – Y/N had been ready to walk her life in darkness with him and not asked anything in return apart from his devotion.

But he pushed the thoughts of the bracelets, of the True Love’s Curse, to the side as he was pulled in a dance by Dalyria, then her girlfriend, and at some point, even Lae’Zel allowed him to lead her in a slow waltz before once again returning to Y/N’s side. His rightful place

His arms wove around her waist, while her cheek leaned to rest against his chest. She sighed, closing her eyes.

Astarion pressed a kiss to Y/N’s head. “I don’t know what I might have done in a previous life, but whatever it was, it had to be something exceedingly good for me to end up with you.”

She hummed in contentment. “You deserve all that is kind in this world, my love. I am the least of it.”

He wanted to argue, to tell her she was his whole world, but instead, he closed his eyes too and smiled, relishing in the love. He did deserve good. He deserved all that was kind. It was time Astarion finally embraced it, and if that was Y/N in his arms, he would hold on a bit tighter then.

Hours later they stood alone by the cliffside, a slight breeze ruffling their hair as they waited for the sun to fully rise, the gardens empty, their house as well, as the wedding party had ended, leaving people satiated and tipsy on their way home.

“What if it doesn’t work?” Astarion asked. “What if they were wrong?”

“Then I have the cloak right here, and all the shutters have already been closed at the house.” She took his hand in hers, the bracelet clicking against his.

She didn’t try to convince him, give him false hope of how it would work, because not everything in life did. Not everything was perfect and not everything was supposed to be perfect. Of course, he would be devastated, if the True Love’s Curse was not real. But Astarion also knew he’d never be alone in it. He’d have Y/N by his side, as he always had. She wasn’t going anywhere and that was enough.

As the sun rose, the sky turning from a deep blue to pink, then orange and red, Astarion took in a deep breath. Then – on the first day as a married man – the first rays of a new day touched him for the first time in four years.

A tear rolled down his face, scarlet eyes not daring to stray away from the stunning view that was the dawn and greeted the sun like a long-lost friend.

Y/N gave him the widest smile ever, a match to the one she’d sported when seeing him by the altar. “Where to first, my love? We have the whole world for the taking.”

He looked at her, cupping her face. “First, to home. And then – to the very edge of the universe.”

Tags:

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird @omggiannarosa @poisonquinzell @iffazu @alisoncdariel

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstrange

A/N: I've re-written this whole thing like 3 different times because I just couldn’t get it right, but now I feel like this is how it's meant to be :) I do have like extra 8k words of stuff I might release as smaller fics set around these two specific versions of the characters. Let me know if you'd like that or want to be tagged in future fics :)

I might edit this at some point a bit more. English is not my first language, so I need time to step away, before I can see additional mistakes.

Please don't repost on other platforms without specific written consent! That is called plagiarism

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70s-music-tourney · 3 months

Text

Poll list for the 70s music tourney

Round 3:

September vs Disco Inferno

Ballroom Blitz vs Rapper's Delight

The Chain vs Roxanne

Bad Girls vs Barracuda

Hotel California vs Killer Queen

Don't Fear the Reaper vs Lola

Rasputin vs Gimme Gimme Gimme

Rocketman vs Dancing in the Moonlight

Superstition vs Ain't no Sunshine

Heart of Glass vs I will Survive

Hooked on a Feeling vs Born to Run

Jolene vs Le Freak

Previous round beneath the Cut

Round 2:

(They Long to be) close to you vs Gimme Gimme Gimme

Don't Fear the reaper vs Starman

Hold the Line vs Killer Queen

Psycho killer vs The Chain

Do it again vs Lola

Renegade vs Dancing in the moonlight

Bat out of hell vs Le Freak

Disco Inferno vs Big Yellow Taxi

Have you ever seen the rain vs Hotel California

Heart of Glass vs YMCA

Ring my bell vs Roxanne

London Calling vs Bad Girls

Ain't No Sunshine vs Stayin Alive

Rasputin vs Sultans of the Swing

Barracuda vs Country roads

Hooked on a feeling vs Our House

The wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald vs Rapper's Delight

Black Betty vs Rocket Man

Roundabout vs Ballroom Blitz

Funkytown vs I will survive

Mr.Blue Sky vs Born to Run

September vs Piano Man

Jolene vs Dream On

Superstition vs Freebird

Round 1:

Piano Man vs Imagine

Killer Queen vs Boys don't Cry

Gimme Gimme Gimme vs Let's get it on

I Will Survive vs Carry on Wayward Son

The Chain vs Blinded by the Light

Starman vs Let it Be

Rasputin vs Stairway to Heaven

American Pie vs Take Me Home County Roads

Renegade vs Me and Bobby Mcgee

Jolene vs Brandy (you're a fine girl)

September vs The Devil Went Down to Georgia

Hotel California vs Baba O'Riley

Ballroom Blitz vs The Boys are Back in Town

Don't Fear the Reaper vs Midnight Train to Georgia

Mr. Blue Sky vs The Logical Song

Stayin Alive vs Horse with no Name

Psycho Killer vs Blitzkrieg Bop

Rocket Man vs Smoke on the Water

Heart of Glass vs Another Brick in the Wall, Part 2

T. N. T. vs Black Betty

Southern Nights vs Le Freak

It's too late vs Disco Inferno

YMCA vs All Right Now

Big Yellow Taxi vs Live and Let Die

Freebird vs Detroit Rock City

Bad Girls vs Video Killed the Radio Star

I'll be there vs Ring my Bell

Rapper's Delight vs My Little Town

Dream On vs The Joker

Sultans of the Swing vs American Girl

We are Family vs Barracuda

Dancing in the moonlight vs Wheel in the sky

Escape (Pina Colada Song) vs Have you ever seen the rain

Born to Run vs Iron Man

Papa was a rolling stone vs London Calling

Hooked on a feeling vs Joy to the World

My Sharona vs Superstition

Roundabout vs Stuck in the Middle with you

LA Woman vs Roxanne

(They Long to be) Close to You vs Fire and Rain

Funky Town vs Heart of Gold

Time in a Bottle vs Our House

Ain't No Sunshine vs Anarchy in the UK

Do it again vs Just What I Needed

The wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald vs Cats in the Cradle

Your Mama Won't Like Me vs Bat out of Hell

Hold the Line vs Crackling Rosie

Lola vs Heartbreaker

Bonus Rounds:

All Along the Watch Tower vs More than a Feeling

8 other songs by featured artists

60s practice round

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hisnumber1 · 3 months

Text

Devil's Embrace

Paring: Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Summery: (Y/n) had found herself at the hazbin hotel. She never thought of redemption but she got a free room while she does her work. (Y/n) made outfits and tailored for people if they pay enough. She loves trying to make unique dresses for balls or for higher class. Keeping her name in the high class of hell, she tailored for the king of hell himself. Finding herself tailoring for him in the hotel of his daughter is an interesting situation.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: fluff, slowburn, close proximity.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

I find myself leaning back in my seat, sighing. Watching AngleDust flirt with Husker and he growls in response. Charlie is putting more stuff on her board as she tries to figure out how to make the hotel work. I jump back on feet, strolling down the hallway ways to get to my room. I walk into my room filled with drawing and projects I've worked on. I fall flat on my face into my bed, I turn my head, looking at my recent project of a dress.

The dress was a long ballroom dress, with a long v going down the chest. The sleeves were mesh, and at the top it came off the shoulder. The skirt came out and poofed out, with the back covered in a long black mesh. The dress was white, with highlights of red, all of the mesh was black, giving it a dark energy.

Something just seems off, I don't know what it is but it just does. I hear a ping come from across the room. Lifting up my head and seeing my phone light up, I groan as I pull myself up. Walking to my table, I grab my phone and sit on the table. I read the notification, it was an email. I tapped on it, scanning over the text.

"Dear Ms. (L/n),

I hope this email finds you well. I recently purchased a suit, while I am pleased with the quality and style, I find that it is slightly larger than my measurements. Therefore, I am writing to inquire about the possibility of having it tailored to a smaller size.

The suit in question is a white Shawl Lapel with red highlights, the fabrics are jacquard and velvet, and I purchased it about a week ago. I have attached a copy of the receipt for your reference.

I would greatly appreciate it if you could provide me with information on the process and cost involved in resizing the suit. Additionally, if you require any further measurements or details, please do not hesitate to let me know.

I am eager to have the suit adjusted so that it fits perfectly, and I trust your expertise in handling this matter. I am available to schedule an appointment at your earliest convenience.

Thank you for your attention to this request. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Warm regards,

Lucifer Morningstar"

I sigh as I look at the photos he sent. It is a beautiful suit, but if I did it, the style would be better, but it is not mine. Thinking of what the price is, I need to get his exact measurements to tailor it correctly. Pressing the reply button, I started typing out my reply.

'Dear Mr. Morningstar,

Thank you for reaching out and for providing the details regarding your suit purchase. I appreciate your trust in our tailoring services.

I will be more than happy to assist you with resizing your suit to ensure a perfect fit. Before proceeding, could you please bring the suit to my studio for a fitting session? This will allow me to accurately assess the alterations needed and provide you with a precise cost estimate.

Once I have examined the suit, we will discuss the adjustments required and provide you with a timeline for completion.

Please let us know a convenient time for you to visit our store, and we will schedule an appointment accordingly. Feel free to contact us if you have any further questions or concerns.

Looking forward to seeing you soon and assisting you with your tailoring needs.

Best regards,

(Y/n) (L/n)'

I read over the email before hitting send. 'Wait, isn't Charlie his daughter?' I thought as I look back over his name. I press another reply button and put the the address, letting him know where he could meet me. Tossing my phone onto my bed, I walk out into the lobby again, sitting on the bar stool. "A shot of anything strong." I grumbled at Husk, he was cleaning a glass when he heard me. "What's the occasion?" He asked grabbing a shot glass before pouring some. "Work." I groan with my head on the bar, keeping my eyes shut, my headache gets worse with light.

"Ever thought of getting anything for those migraines?" Husk asked when he placed down the shot, I look up, grabbing the shot and downing it. "Another please. I've looked into it, but I don't need to, I'll just deal with it." Sighing as I push the shot towards Husk. He shakes his head as he pours another one, pushing it towards me. Taking the glass and downing it again.

I hear Charlie in the lobby talking to Vaggie about something, I turn to her. "Hey Charlie. Your dad is gonna come in a few days." I slur out, catching her attention she turned me wide eyed. "What?" She asked as she walked closer. "I'm tailoring a suit of his, I told him I need to take measurements cause he could have grown in the last year." I replied to her. "So he's coming to the hotel?" "Yeah, I think so." Replying to her she chuckled a but before pacing back and forth. "He's only gonna be in my room, just to get measured. He's one my highest paying customers." I chuckle, feeling the alcohol get to my system.

"He emailed me a few minutes ago about getting a suit tailored. I told him that I needed for take his measurements and then I would come up with the price." I explain to her. Charlie's pacing got faster, but she's stops when Vaggie puts her hand on her shoulder. "When would he be here?" Vaggie asked me and I shrugged.

"I can go see if he answered if you would like?" I got up from my seat, walking to my room. Opening my door, I walk to my bed, grabbing my phone. I look at the notifications, seeing a email. I walk out to the lobby, opening the email.

"Dear Ms. (L/n),

Thank you for your prompt response and for offering to assist with resizing my suit. I appreciate your attention to detail and professionalism in addressing my tailoring needs.

I will certainly bring the suit to your studio for a fitting session. I propose scheduling the appointment for this Friday afternoon around 2:00 PM. Please let me know if this time works for you, or if an alternative time would be more convenient.

I look forward to meeting with you and discussing the necessary alterations. Thank you once again for your assistance, and I am confident in your expertise to ensure a perfect fit for my suit.

Best regards,

Mr. Morningstar"

I read out loud. Charlie pauses and starts pacing again. "He can't come. We don't even know if this works. If he comes he'll know I failed." Charlie said lowly, Vaggie hugs her and kisses her cheek. "It'll be fine love." She said as she pulled away from the hug. Vaggie looked over at me and sighed. "He'll be here in two days, just make sure he is only here for that a not going anywhere else. Charlie isn't ready to face him at the moment." She said as she looked up at the clock to check the time.

I nod, I grab the shot glass and down the last one before walking to my room. Falling onto my bed, a breath left my lungs as I hit the bed. I turn over and pick up my phone, unlocking it and looking at the photo of the suit. Thinking for a second, it looks a lot like the dress. Looking between my phone and the dress on the lay figure, they would look together.

Standing up from my bed, I tiptoe to the sewing mannequin. I run my finger across it, looking back at the photo and then back at the dress. A light bulb lit up and I ran to my desk, grabbing safety pins. Taking out my sewing needles, turning on my machine, grabbing buttons. I pull the mannequin next to the desk, sketching out the idea in my head.

A bang woke me from my slumber, I jerk up and look around. Standing in my door way is AngleDust, he looks out of breath. "(Y/n)! My shirt is ruined!" He said as he walked closer with his torn shirt. I groan and put my head back on the desk. "You alright toots?" He asks as he puts his arm on my shoulder. "I'm fine, I finally figured out what was wrong with the dress, and I fixed it. There is a problem though, Lucifer is gonna be here tomorrow and he's kinda matching with his suit." A groan left my mouth, Angle walks over to dress. "It's gorgeous. I mean it's always been." He said as he looked over it.

Sighing as I felt my eyes closing. I stayed up all night working on it, adding new fabrics, adding the details. I felt myself falling asleep again as Angle looked over the dress.

My eyes slowly open, I groan as I sit up. "My back hurts like hell." Groaning as I stood up. It looked dark out, I must have slept all day. Walking out of my room into the lobby, the lights were still on so someone was awake. Yawning as I walk to the bar, my eyes saw Alastor, he was sitting on the couch as he read a newspaper. "Morning Al." I yawn as I pour myself something to drink.

His head perked up at my voice. "Morning, you know it's in the late afternoon right?" He asked as he placed his newspaper down.

"Yeah, I didn't sleep last night. So I slept all day." Yawning as I walk over to the couch, sitting next to Alastor. "Why didn't you sleep?" He asked as he sipped his drink. "Working on that dress." I groan. He hummed in response. I downed the rest of my drink before standing up. "Well Lucifer is coming over tomorrow, so I need to sleep. Night Al." "Oh goodnight (Y/n)." He grinned.

I step into my room, closing the door behind me. Sighing as I walk over to my bed, sitting on the edge before falling backwards. Grunting at the sudden stop, I throw my arm over my eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep.

Waking up to my alarm, I groan. I slowly sit up and turn off my phone. I whimper as the sun hits my eyes, I have to get ready and clean up for the appointment. I pick up my phone reading the time, but I saw that I had a email.

'Dear Ms. (Y/n),

Hello, I hope this email finds you in good health. I wanted to make an appointment to have a meeting. I want some new clothes by your hand. If you have the time for a meeting please contact me.

Love,

Valentino <3'

I read over the email before putting my phone down. I really don't want to deal with him right now, I sighed as I went to my drawers. Pulling out some presentable clothes, then walking to my restroom to take a shower. I turn the knob letting the water start, after I pull my clothes off of me, letting it hit the floor. Pulling my undergarments off before sliding into the shower. The hot water hitting my skin and wetting every inch of my body.

I put shampoo in my hair and scrub it in, soap going down my body as I rinse my hair out. Grabbing the bottle for conditioner, letting my hair run under water. Pouring some into my hand before scrubbing it into my scalp. I let the conditioner soak, I wash my body before rinsing off everything. Turning off the water, I grab a towel and put it around my body.

Walking into my room, striding to my bed, where I put my clothes. Taking the towel and drying off my hair before dressing myself. After wards I look at the time, it read 12:47 pm. I sigh, I still have almost two hours before he gets here. I look around the room, seeing my room is a mess, knowing us have to clean it sooner or later.

Cleaning up my room, putting everything in place before he gets here and picking up trash and dirty laundry. I organized everything and I looked at the time, it was 1:36 pm. My eyes widen as I look at the time. "Shit he'll be here soon!" I yelled at myself and I got a new mannequin out for the suit, making sure I knew where everything I needs was. Keeping track of time, I brushed my hair and put on light makeup, so I didn't look like I was dying.

Getting myself mentally prepared to see the sin of pride. He was cocky everytime you saw him, not a bad cocky but like 'he knows he's hot and he's not afraid to show it off' cocky. The man was hot, I can't denie that.

I walk to the lobby waiting for the knock, not a second later I hear it. Walking to the door, slowly opening it to reveal Lucifer. "(Y/n), it's been to long." He grinned as walked in to the hotel, his eyes shifted all over the lobby. "We will be working in a room back here, just follow me." I say as I lead the way to my room. He gladly follows along behind me, still looking everywhere. We make it to my room and I close the door after he walks in.

"Now if you would please stand here." I ask him to stand on a X mark on the floor. He looked down and nods with a smile. "So how have you been (Y/n)? I haven't seen you in about a year." He asked as he gave me the suit. "Eh, tired. I have been working on a new dress over that year, I finally finished it the day before yesterday." I reply, setting the suit on the mannequin.

"Yeah? May I see it?" He asked as he looked around my room. I nodded and I walked into my other room, I have to rooms attached to each other for my bed room and my studio. Rolling the mannequin out, the jewels sparkled in the sun light.

"That is gorgeous." Lucifer said as he walked over, feeling the fabric. "It looks a little familiar." He said as he put his hand on his chin. His eyes caught on the suit and he gasped. "It's like a set! The dress and my suit." Lucifer stated as his eyes light up. I chuckled and nodded. "I noticed that when you sent me the photos."

"I would love to buy it." He said as he looked at it. I stopped in my tracks. "What?" I asked with a chuckle. "How much, I could gift it to my daughter." He stated as he started pulling out his wallet. "I'm not selling it right now. I actually made it for myself, kinda a dream dress." I chuckled nervously.

You could practly hear his face light up. "I've never seen you wear a dress." He said surprised. "Well yeah, I don't like wearing them." "You should put it on." He said. "No." I said flatly.

"Oh come on (Y/n). You even match with the king if hell, why not put it on?" He asked. "Lucifer, I need to start measurements, please stand where you were." I said with no tone. He was a persistent man. "Come on, I would love to see you in it." He purred out. "Lucifer arms up." I said with a measuring tape in my hands. "Come on." He whined out.

As he is begging me to put on the dress, I just ignore him and measure his body. As I measuring his bust to his groan there was blast and the hotel shaked. Causing Lucifer to tumble over and fall on me.

I closed my eyes at feeling of the rumbling, so I didn't know how close he was to me. "Well hello gorgeous." I hear Lucifer say, I open my eyes to see his face a few inches away from mine. "Oh you're wearing makeup, it looks good on you." He complemented me. "Lucifer get up." I say as I start pushing him. "I am darling." He chuckled. Standing up, he offered me a hand, which I gladly took.

"Well that didn't sound good." He stated as he dusted himself off, I nodded in agreement. "I actually finished measuring you, I would probably charge you about $230." I said as I looked over my notebook, adding the measurements. "Always straight to business. That's what I liked about you." He chuckled. Taking money from his wallet, handing it over to me, before I pull away he takes my hand, bringing it to his lips. Kissing my knuckles for a moment before pulling away. "Well I'll see myself out, and you should probably check what that sound was." Lucifer said as he started walking out of my room.

Watching him walk off, I felt the heat leave my face. When did that happen? When did my face get so hot? I asked myself, but just blew it off as me just getting hot. Placing down my money on the table, and I hear another bang. Groaning as more rubble falls down in my room. "Ughhh! What is that!?" I yelled out.

A/n: My first story on here and I plan to write more. Sorry if I update slow but I'll get around to doing it!

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #Alastor #charlie morningstar #angle dust #husker hazbin hotel #vaggie #hisnumber1

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tragedybunny · 8 months

Note

hehehe~ perhaps a cute fic with reader and Astarion and he talks about all the parties he used to go to before he was turned- and he dances with you 😳

Anon - So this took on a life of it's own, it reminded me of some of my Tav's backstory, so I worked in some elements of it. I hope it's still good. 🥺

Rhythm Like a Heartbeat - Astarion x F!Reader

Astarion and Reader share a dance that reveals more than they planned.

Wyll was teaching Karlach to dance, of all things you'd seen on this journey, this was somehow amongst the most surprising. The Blade and the "Devil" he should've slayed, moving together along with the melody from an enchanted music box someone had picked up along the way. The two of them seemed to be growing closer, and you couldn't be happier for them. You took a long drink from a pilfered wine bottle while you watched, you were all blowing off a little steam, which was well needed. Digging around for Kethric's weakness was a daunting task and the clock inside of all of you was still ticking. "Not rethinking your choices I hope."

You'd been so lost in thought you hadn't heard Astarion come up behind you. Or he'd intentionally snuck up on you. When he wanted to go unheard or unseen, you usually didn't have a chance of not getting ambushed. Mostly he seemed to enjoy the little jump you made when surprised. Tonight you didn't disappoint, exuding a high-pitched noise along with jumping. "Astarion," you scold, "honestly! And no, of course not, just impressed by Wyll's form."

"Really," he scoffed, not hiding his jealous streak very well at all, "he looks like a gangly teenage boy at his first gala. Clearly, you haven't had much experience in the ballroom." Part of you wanted to laugh a little, the insult was obviously ridiculous, but you knew his jealousy came from fear that he barely held on to you and could still lose you. Maybe sometime you should use the tadpole to show him just how impossible that would be. If only the thought of it didn’t fill you with revulsion.

“I didn’t know you were such an expert, love,” you know he feels comfortable with the playful banter, and you hope it pulls him away from that place of insecurity.

A sharp laugh answers you, “I’ll have you know I had plenty of experience, both in life and unlife.” You shoot him a look, he rarely speaks of life before Cazador, you’re not even sure how much he remembers of it. “What? I had an important job, I knew important people. Or are you just trying to get me to teach you?” An outstretched arm beckons you to join him. For a second you freeze, knowing you’re risking exposing everything you’ve held back. But hells, if you say no, he’ll take it the wrong way entirely. “Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be a quick study.”

Taking his arm, you let him lead you a distance from the tent, glad Wyll and Karlach are still the center of attention, and gracefully dip your knee as he bows. Gently, one hand takes yours, the other held properly tucked behind his back. The rhythm is an easy one, but you let him take the lead. Soft steps, elaborate turns around one another, your eyes locked with his. Gods, his eyes are breathtaking when he’s looking at you, when his guard is down, soft and shining with light. Tonight, they seem full of mirth, but you’ve seen them overflowing with his sorrow and tears as well. They’ve distracted you and you forget, he’s supposed to be teaching you, your form is too good.

Step away, one spin, back to back, face each other, palms touching. Skin like ice presses against yours, heating up with the exertion and the emotions humming through your every nerve. One night he asked if it bothered you, lying next to the chill of the grave. You only hugged him tighter and told him not to be ridiculous because you couldn’t find the right words at the time to explain that it was part of who he was and you loved all of him, even the pieces that might not seem loveable. Thinking of it that way now though, you should tell him.

Another turn, facing away from one another again, a chance to catch your breath. It’s madness how he still affects you, even after you’d confessed to one another, you’re still swooning nervously. He’s right when he calls you “silly girl” teasingly. The finale, one more elaborate twirl, you’re no longer even thinking of the dance, muscle memory taking over. His hand catches yours and you step close to him, closer than the propriety of a noble’s dance floor would’ve ever allowed. Cheekily, he leans forward, stealing a quick kiss. “It would seem you have more talents than you’ve let on.”

“I…”, you really don’t want to lie to him. The silence stretches far too long. “It would seem so.”

“Hmm,” you feel him studying you, and you realize his eyes are guarded again, his posture rigid. “So tell me one thing,” you nod, terrified you’re about to shatter that fragile bond you’ve built. Lies by omission are still lies. “Which noble house are you a runaway from?” His voice is cold and hard, the Astarion you met on the beach that fateful day. How fast he can change wounds you, just like that, he’s ready to be done with you. But it’s your fault, you know how years of horror have left him with walls he’s too quick to bring up. “Or do you want to keep lying to me?”

You shake your head. “I wish I could say.”

“And here I thought we really had something, but clearly,” he gestures wildly, unable to contain his rising temper.

Stinging tears begin to prick your eyes. “No, no, I wish I could say,” you emphasize, praying he’ll understand.

Suddenly, he stills, hand coming to your cheek, eyes wide. “Is this a warlock thing?” A thumb brushes away the tear that escaped and you hear agonized regret in his voice. “Oh darling, I’m sorry, don’t cry.” Arms pull you into his chest. “Please, I didn’t realize, it’s fine.”

“I wanted to tell you,” you sniffle into his shirt.

“Hush love, you can tell me what you’re able to, when you’re ready. Although I must insist you consider us even for any prior deception of mine. Even ones you haven’t realized yet.” He laughs that awkward, nervous laugh that happens when he’s upset, but he’s trying so you let yourself giggle a bit. “There’s my girl. Now how about we dance again and no holding back? I need to know if I can actually keep up with you.”

The music box is still playing but you’re no longer aware of anyone else in the camp. There’s only the two of you, softly and slowly moving together. Gone are the thoughts of the elaborate courtly show, you move by instinct, bodies responding to one another as you press close together. Then you still, let yourself be wrapped in his arms, your lips brushing the hollow of his throat. “I can at least tell you that you’re the best dance partner I’ve ever had.”

“Never doubted it my sweet,” you feel him kiss the crown of your head before resting his cheek against it.

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x f!reader #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #my fanfic

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stinkywritin · 4 months

Text

Late Night Devil

Lee Heeseung x male reader

Short synopsis: You catch a glimpse of the mysterious figure and your life’s forever changed…

…a nice way of saying gay vampire Heeseung brain rot

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, essentially PWP, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), top!Heeseung, bottom!male reader, oral (reader receiving), biting kink, praise kink, FILTH IM SORRY

Title from song Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

(a reupload a my favorite fic from my old blog)

You felt eyes on you ever since you arrived at the party.

Ever since you walked through the front doors with your mother and father, you felt as though you were being watched. No matter how many times you turned around and checked, there wasn’t anyone looking.

Not until you got to the banquet hall.

Everything was draped in luxurious red cloth, the high ceilings connected to a glass dome which allowed the guests a full view of the starry night sky. The tables adorned with the finest tablecloths and expensive tableware you felt nervous picking up for fear of breaking it, the near overwhelming amount of candlelight contrasting the darkness of the night. The dark wooden chairs complimented the equally as dark tables, the ballroom devoid of all color except for the hints of burgundy.

You continued to feel watched over even as you slid down onto one of the chairs next to your mother, your black coat draped over the back of the chair as you fiddled with the silver rings on your hand. One of the rings on your finger was etched with your family crest, handed down from your father once you became of adult age and joined your father’s oil business. Light organ notes danced in the air as the chatter amongst guests grew louder, more families arriving and filling up the tables.

“Sit up straight Y/N!” Your mother scorned you, her previous lecture of maintaining the family image still ringing in your ears. Her voice sounded strained through the tight corset, you were pretty sure her internal organs were all smushed together. A tight lipped smile stretched on her face as she looked around the banquet hall, many other families and members of higher society. Politicians, heirs to fortunes, royal family members, everyone who had more money than they knew what to do with.

Through your father’s business, your family was ranked fairly high on the social status, no where near the level of royalty but definitely a name with notoriety. You being the eldest son meant you’re the child who received the burden of continuing you family’s legacy, expected to not only further your business’s success but to also hand it down to another son. Either this or marry into an even richer family but you were never interested in any of the female suitors your father brought to you, denying any advance before retreating into your studies.

Your father suddenly beckoned you to his side across the hall, champagne glass in hand along with the most manufactured smile while speaking to other men with the same expressions. Your face was devoid of any emotion as you walked to join his side, the light tapping of your shoes on the banquet hall tile was drowned out by the band in the corner.

It’s not that you didn’t like your father, quite frankly you didn’t know enough about him in order to form a sold opinion about him. You’d seen his multimillion dollar company run so many small villages into the ground, clearing out acres of land for hopes of even drilling a single drop of oil. You heard the protests of the people in your country, pleading for companies to stop their mindless destruction of land but like all the other companies, your father didn’t listen. You had no intention of continuing the family business, hoping that maybe one of your siblings would take it over or that you could personally destroy it from the inside out. Plans to escape the damned family business flooded your mind as you stood next to your father, stone faced as he bragged to a distant colleague about whatever bullshit rich old men brag about.

It was during a conversation about coal plants that you saw him for the first time.

Your eyes mindlessly moved along the grand staircase, up along the marbled railing of the balcony, before spotting him alone with his hands folded along the railing. Eyes instantly meeting yours.

His skin was perfectly smoothed and sculpted, his appearance statuesque as he held strong eye contact with you. The darkness in his eyes matched the slant in his grin, a devious smirk was on his lips as his eyes raked you in, seemingly drawing you closer to him. The dark strands on his head complimented the dark velvet coat on his shoulders, the ruffles of his white shirt peaking forward elegantly.

“Y/N what do you think?” Your father’s voice interrupted your speechless encounter with the brunette, ripping your eyes from the beauty before you to bring you back to Earth. Dante himself wouldn’t be able to fully capture the beauty of the man you laid your eyes on, his descriptions of heaven coming second to the allure of the man who captured your attention.

“Sorry come again?” You replied haphazardly, already tuning out the conversation before you look back up to the gorgeous creature from before. Only in the mere seconds you looked away, he had vanished. Your bewildered eyes searched all over the balcony for him, refusing to believe he was a figment of your imagination.

“Sorry gentlemen please excuse me one moment” you politely moved away from the men, leaving behind a group of insulted men and your angry father. Your heart rate picked up as you began your search for the man from earlier, refusing to let him leave your life as quickly as he had entered.

Your footsteps echoed in the hallways of the palace, the tiled floor ways leading to multiple different rooms. You came across a portrait in a hallway far from the banquet hall, the frame picturing a family with an only child. A son whose eyes seemed to bore into your sole, the faces of the parents had been scratched out, the colors worn pale from age.

“Such a shame isn’t it?” A rich, melancholic voice startled you from your spot before the portrait, the handsome stranger from before suddenly appearing behind you. You hadn’t heard his footsteps, nor any other indication he was near you. “The colors were much more divine when the portrait was freshly made.”

“When was it painted?” You asked the stranger, his smile was playful as his eyes shifted from you to the painting.

His hands were folded behind his lower back as he spoke up, “I stopped counting after the third century.”

Well fuck. Even though everything about that response screamed ‘don’t come near me I’m dangerous,’ something about the way his eyes flatly observed the portrait before you pulled you in for more.

“Do you know the family?” You asked, your voice wavering as you continued to take in his appearance. The man before you seemed to have discarded his coat, the silk of his white shirt now on full display. There wasn’t a single wrinkle, every fold was pressed neatly on his body. If elegance was a person it truly would be him.

“Do you always stutter when asking questions?” His eyes quickly turned to make eye contact with you, a playful slant adorned his lips at his teasing. You couldn’t help the rush of heat to your face, hopefully he couldn’t see the blush on your face but judging by how his smile grew, it was evident he saw it.

“I guess only when I’m talking to pretty people” you shrugged, your eyes traveling away from his to study the portrait once again. The scratch marks on the faces of the parents tore through the canvas, making it obvious someone took a knife to the portrait. Although the colors were muted, you didn’t doubt that the robes and silks worn by the parents were more expensive than your father’s entire company. Then there was the little boy. He looked no more than 6 years of age, cheeks puffed and eyes full of childlike wonder, his face was the only one still remaining on the portrait.

“You can do better than juvenile pick up lines” the man scoffed, your eyes snapping back to him just in time to see him stifle a laugh. “This isn’t a school courtyard.”

You let out a chuckle, already cringing on your cheesy one liner. “I apologize for that sir but I don’t apologize for the pretty laugh it let me hear from you.” Now it was his turn to blush.

It was the chiming of the bells from the clock tower that erased the relaxed feeling between you two.

“Excuse me sir L/N but I’m afraid that’s my queue to leave.” As he started to turn on his heal away from you, a tight feeling within you snapped and you reached out to grab his wrist. Immediately you felt his ice cold skin on your hand, his face contorted in shock as he looked back to you. “What are you-“

“How did you know my last name?” You interrupt him, his furrowed brows softening on his face.

“Seeing as how I made the guest list I’m well acquainted with your family Y/N” his cheeky grin was back, his wrist still in your grasp. You relaxed your hold to let him escape but instead he took another step closer towards you.

“You’re part of the Lee family?” You questioned, even if you already knew the answer. The Lee family was one of the wealthiest royal families in the country, owning a luxurious castle away from all the surrounding villages. Your father said they were weird and antisocial but seeing as how they donated to many charities and political campaigns in the villages, they were immensely powerful. No one from the Lee family held any political or government position in centuries but that didn’t mean they weren’t pulling the strings from afar.

“And you still don’t seem to know my name?” His spunky grin broke you from your deep thoughts. You were face to face with a member of one of the most powerful families in the country, your father’s complaints of their wealth ringing in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I just didn’t think I’d ever meet someone from your family.” You honestly stated, barely noticing just how close he was to you. Your noses were mere inches apart, a strong enough breeze would’ve been able to bring you two together

“Heeseung.” His voice was slightly above a whisper before he continued, “my name is Lee Heeseung.”

Before your brain could talk you out of it, you took his hand in yours before bringing the back of his palm up to your mouth. You have a slight bow as you pressed a feather like kiss to his ice cold skin, you knew he still had that damn smirk on his face even if your eyes were closed. “It’s an honor to meet you Heeseung, I’m F/N L/N of the L/N family.”

“I’m aware” he snatched his hand back, although the grin was still plastered on his face. “This is my home after all.”

Before turning around to leave, he added “Meet me back here at midnight.” It wasn’t a question, more of an order, but you wouldn’t have refused either way.

“I’ll be waiting.” You gave one more curt bow, at which he scoffed and walked away from you. You noticed he wasn’t walking back in the direction of the banquet hall, in fact he was going in the opposite direction.

You turned back towards the portrait before you and as you looked at the boy in the painting again you felt a heavy weight in the pit of your chest. You could suddenly recognize the boy being Heeseung, a smiling young Heeseung. And suddenly the remark of the painting being more than three centuries old made that weight in your chest even heavier.

——

True to your word you returned to your unofficial meeting spot.

It was a pain in the ass trying to shake off your parent’s prying eyes and overwhelming amount of questions. You hid the fact that you had met — and flirted — with Lee Heeseung from both of your parents, you knew they would demand that you introduced them to him so you made up a lie about getting lost trying to find a bathroom. Seeing your parents fake smiles and having to endure a terrible sales pitch from your father was a special kind of hell that you didn’t want Heeseung to experience. Thankfully they believed your lie and didn’t press any further, leaving you alone for the rest of the evening.

It was a little before midnight, right when you were about to leave to see Heeseung again, that you spoke to your mother. You told her you would stay behind for a little while longer and that they should leave without you, that you’d call a cab later and meet them back at the house. She seemed hesitant to leave you, wanting to know why you would be staying behind but in the end she hesitantly left with your father.

“Just promise you’ll be back in the morning?” She pleaded, cradling your face in the palms of her hands. “Or at least call me in the morning to let me know you’re still alive?”

“Yes mother don’t worry I’ll let you know everything” you offered her a wide grin as she pulled back, the clicks of her heels hitting the tiled floor growing quieter. Once she had gotten in the car with your father, you turned and quickly walked back to the hallway from earlier that evening.

—-

The corridors were empty, only the sound of your hurried footsteps could be heard echoing off the walls. The painting was still just as magnificent as it was earlier in the evening, except as you footsteps took you close to it, you could feel that familiar weight in your chest again. The breaths picked up as you eyed the portrait again, this time feeling as though it was pulling you in.

“You came back” the same honey voice startled you, Heeseung suddenly appearing next to you. He grinned at your attempts to catch your breath, your eyes still wide from the scare he gave you.

“Of course” you huffed out, composing yourself by straightening your back to look him in the eye. “I had some questions.”

Heeseung quirked his head to the side while his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the smile still plastered in his face. “Questions?” He paused, you gave a shaky nod in reply. “Alright well, ask away.”

“Is that you?” You pointed to the little boy in the portrait, his goddamn grin was making it ten times harder for you to focus on trying to make sense of him.

“Yes that’s me.” Heeseung flatly responded, his eyes traveling to look at the portrait. “I think that was my sixth birthday if I can recall correctly.”

“And you said this was made over three centuries ago correct?” Your voice was wavering, your whole body feeling heavy with anxiety and dread. “How old are you?”

“Y/N don’t you know it’s considered rude to ask someone their age when you first meet?” Heeseung’s met with yours again, seemingly able to bore holes into your brain. As if he could sense the panic coursing through your veins, he sighed before answering “I can’t remember how old I am or how many years are passing by, they all seem to blur together and over time I found it’s easier to not count my age anymore.”

Heeseung’s entire demeanor changed; he was no longer carrying himself with a high level of confidence, instead of the usual cockiness there was a melancholic tone to his voice as he longingly stared at the portrait.

He continued, “I was normal just like you, just human. Until at age 20 I was turned into this by my lover. He turned me into this so that we could be together for all of eternity but shortly after I turned he was killed by some hunters from a village up north. I was 20, a freshly turned vampire and completely estranged by my family for choosing a male lover.” He clutched something in his hand, turning it over before he took a seat on the tiled floor. His back was pressed against the dark walls as he beckoned you to sit next to him.

Once you were sat next to him, your hands making contact with the cold tiles of the floor as your back rested against the wall, you could see a small locket in his hands. The metal was scuffed and old, showing signs of years of use.

“This family,” Heeseung continued. “It’s made up of vampires from all over the country who are just like me. No family to turn to, no friends and partners to depend on, nothing. The Lee family took me in, no questions asked and I’ve been here since. And while the banquets and parties have been quite distracting, I still haven’t been able to find anyone to grow closer to, not since I died and became this.”

A fresh tear had escaped from Heeseung’s eye, it traveled down his cheek until hitting the floor, the man not bothering to wipe it away.

“I’m sorry Heeseung” you shakily whispered, hoping your voice was loud enough to be heard by the vampire next to you. The weight you had felt in your chest earlier — the intense panic over what creature Heeseung was and whether or not he was dangerous — had started dissipating at his words. Not entirely however, and it seemed Heeseung could still sense the remaining anxieties.

“Don’t apologize I haven’t even answered your question yet,” Heeseung wiped the remains of his tears off of his cheek while letting out a small — forced — chuckle. You were forced to go to banquets and business meetings and a bunch of other gatherings of snobby rich people, you were used to fake smiles and even faker laughs; however Heeseung’s was the most heartbreaking of all.

“As for age all I can say for sure is that I’ve been a vampire for a little over 400 years,” Heesung’s fingers messed with the locket in his hand as he spoke. “Anything else you’d like to ask Mr. L/N”

Heeseung had cocked his head to look at you, his eyes instantly letting yours. Sitting beside you was a supposed ‘creature of the undead’, something that up until recently you believed to be fake and the material for fiction. And yet the way Heeseung’s smile seemed to fill your being with bliss was anything but fiction, the way he had drawn you in even if you had only met that evening was a beautiful reality.

But that doesn’t mean you don’t still have questions.

“If you say you ran away to join this family how did you get that painting?” The teasing in your tone evoked a surprised laugh from Heeseung, the atmosphere surrounding you two had lightened, no longer full of worry.

“I’ve been alive longer than your great grandparents don’t question how I get stuff brat” Heeseung playfully pinched your shoulder, sending you two into a lighthearted scuffle that ended with Heeseung’s thighs straddling your lower torso.

“Ok I yield!” You huffed out between fits of laughter. As your chest rose and fell from your attempts to catch your breath, you could suddenly feel how close Heesung was. His hands held your wrists to the floor, his upper body draped over yours. “Okay one last question.”

“Ugh enough with the questions!” Heeseung chuckled out. After seeing the pleading look in your eyes he nodded his head, telling you it was okay to ask what was on your mind.

“Why did you ask me to come back here at midnight?” You asked, the underlying tone of your question being ‘are you going to kill me because I would please like to know in advance’.

“Is my interest in you not obvious enough?” Heeseung softly replied, grin widening when he sees the blush rise to your face. The hands that were on your wrists were now interlocking with yours, his hands delicately squeezing yours as he rested his forehead atop yours. “And here I was thinking you were also interested.”

“I am!” You helped out, causing a fit of giggles to erupt from Heeseung at your eagerness.

Heeseung’s hands were still interlocked with yours as he calmed down, his face still so close to yours. The way his eyes were sparkling with joy made the weight dissipate completely. Heeseung’s faced leaned impossibly closer to yours, his lips mere centimeters away from yours. “You’re so gorgeous the second I saw you I knew I had to talk to you. I knew I would miss the rest of the banquet because I had some business to take care of with another town’s mayor. Corrupt politicians and what not, such a pain to clean blood stains on carpets by the way.” Heeseung rolled his eyes at his comment, you could feel your heart rate pick up at the way his eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips.

“But I knew I had to see you again which is why I asked you to meet me here.” You felt your dick twitch at his words, the smirk playing on his lips was evidence he felt it too.

He started to slowly — so achingly slowly — roll his hips over your bulge. “The entire job I pleaded with the universe to let me see you again, all I could think about was how gorgeous you are Y/N.”

“Heeseung” you panted out, the fabric around your cock getting tighter. “Please kiss me.”

“Absolutely my love” Heeseung’s lips slotted perfectly with yours, your body heat felt as though it rose an extra 30 degrees. The way his lips fit with yours felt like an explosion of pure bliss, immediately opening your mouth to let his tongue in. The way Heeseung kissed you as if he was planning on devouring you made your head spin.

It could’ve been 30 seconds or 3 years but the kiss felt of pure heaven. No amount of time would ever be enough to fully satisfy the need you felt for each other, you thought this as Heeseung’s hip rolls began getting faster. After a particularly loud moan escaped your lips, Heeseung murmured into your ear, “Let me take you to bed my beauty.”

You eagerly nodded as he lifted you both up on your feet, leading you to his bedroom door while having his hand interlaced with yours. You two couldn’t help the giggles or the chaste kisses while you ran to his room.

—-

“Lie on your back for me sweetheart” Heeseung’s voice has seemed to drop a few octaves, sounding huskier as he pushed you back onto his silk sheets and started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

You quickly undid the laces of your boots, chucking them across the room before fumbling with the buttons on your shirt. You huffed in annoyance as you had difficulty getting your shirt off, Heeseung — who was now shirtless — took notice of your frustration and let out a low chuckle. His hands clasped yours as he placed them on you, slowly moving your hands down onto the bed before eagerly grabbing the collar of your blouse and tearing the fabric open. You gasped at the sound of the fabric ripping but quickly began to let out a deep groan as Heeseung began placing soft kisses down your chest. His lips were ice cold, making goosebumps rise all over your body from the drastic shift in temperature.

“There’s no time for slowly unbuttoning clothing” Heesung whispered into the skin on your sternum. His eyes switched back up to meet yours, the look of pure lust painting his eyes, “I want you now.”

“Then take me.” You gasped as Heeseung pushed your upper body down onto his bed, grabbing your hips and quickly pulling down your trousers and underwear, leaving you bare under him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him close to you to bring him into another heated kiss. You felt the fabric of his pants on your cock as he began to grind his clothed bulge onto yours. The friction causing you to bite at his lower lip, your fingernails scratching onto the skin on his shoulders. One of his hands moved to graze over your bulge, the cold skin causing a shiver to run up your spine.

Heeseung continued to kiss and bite at the skin on your jawline as he wrapped a hand around your cock, giving it a harsh but arousing tug. “Knew you would sound heavenly darling” Heeseung said into your ear, the strokes of his hand becoming more even. “Knew it the second I laid my eyes on you.”

“Heeseung-“ you were cut off by your own whine as Heesung sharply removed his hand to slap your thigh.

“That’s hyung to you brat” Heeseung gave your thigh another harsh smack before bringing two fingers up to your lips. The pads of his icy fingertips grazing along your lower lip so slightly you could barely feel it. “Now open up.”

You opened your mouth to let his fingers dance along your tongue, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sighing. Heeseung’s eyes were fixated on the sight of you sucking on his fingers, his cock growing harder. He pulled his fingers out from your mouth before sliding them over your tight hole, inserting one finger in as you gasped in surprise. His fingers were still so, so cold, causing you to shiver again.

He slowly worked his finger in and out of your hole, teasing his second one before pushing them both in and stretching you open. As his fingers worked to stretch you open, Heeseung licked a stripe from your thigh to the base of your cock. You let out a loud yelp as he licked up the length of your cock, your hands flying to yank at the dark locks on his head. “Oh hyung that feels so good” you moaned out, your eyes squeezing shut from the overwhelming waves of pleasure that were washing over your body.

His fingers quickened their pace as Heeseung’s dark eyes looked up at you, he whispered with the head of your cock pressed against his bottom lip, “cum in my mouth gorgeous.” Heeseung’s mouth took you in, warmth engulfing your entire body as you cried out in pleasure. You could feel the pleasure overcoming you, making your brain foggy as all your senses were being overwhelmed.

All of a sudden the coil in you snapped, you came down his throat as he eagerly swallowed every drop you let out. Even as you came down from the intense feeling, his fingers were still working you open — albeit at a slower pace. When his fingers grazed your prostate you shivered while your thighs began to shake, throwing Heeseung a confused gaze.

“You didn’t think we were done did you?” His smirk causing your thoughts to muddle, he abruptly removed his fingers before smacking your thigh again. “Sit up now darling I haven’t gotten my fix yet.”

He laid back against the dark wood of his bedpost, a pillow separating his lower back from the wood. He removed his pants and underwear before turning to you and patting his thigh, beckoning you over. You let out a small chuckle, your post orgasm brain somehow finding the cheesiness of it all a little amusing.

Heeseung tilted his head in confusion as you crawled over, placing his hands on your hips before saying, “why are you laughing, darling?” He pulled you down to sit on his lower torso, his cock nestled between your cheeks which caused the blush on your face to deepen in slight embarrassment.

“You’re so cute” you placed an innocent peck on his lips, Heeseung gave you what felt like a hundred more as a response. He held you close as the grin on his face grew larger, both of your giggles breaking the kisses. As you both calmed down from your giggling fit, the eye contact you held began intensifying. Heeseung’s eyes seemed to hold all the stars in the night sky with the way they sparkled up at you, the light blush on his face deepening as you held him close.

His hand ran through the hair on the nape of your neck, his wide eyes and large grin seemed to distract you from the fact that you were both completely bare. His finger started to drag from the bottom of your ear down the slope of your neck before whispering, “Can I bite you darling?”

You could feel your soft length grow interested at his question, your eyes widened as they filled with curiosity. “You want to turn me?” Your question made the vampire look up at you, an unreadable look in his eyes.

“I don’t have to turn you.” Heeseung started, his cold hands tightening their grip on your skin. “I can feed from you and as long as I don’t take too much you’ll still be alive and, well, human.”

When the word ‘feeding’ fell from the man’s lips, you suddenly remembered the man — the vampire — below you could very easily kill you in two ways; by either draining all the blood from your body or turning you into an undead creature for the rest of eternity.

“I’ve been alive a long time Y/N” Heeseung’s voice bringing you back to the present. He continued, “I can control my appetite, I will not take more than you can handle and I will stop if you tell me to. You have my word darling.”

Instead of giving him a verbal response, you tilt your head to the side to give him full access to your neck and collarbones and nodded. Heeseung’s hands roughly pulled your hips up, aligning his length with your entrance before pulling you back down to sit on his lap. Your body shivered at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins, the head of Heeseung’s cock was pressing against your g spot, leaving you full.

As you tried moving your hips, Heeseung would stop your movements to slam you back down onto his lap. His hands moved from your hips further down to hold your ass, his tongue licking over a spot on the crook of your neck. Your neglected length had been interested even after already orgasming once, however all pleasure before this failed in comparison to the feeling of Heeseung’s fangs piercing into your skin. His hips moved achingly slowly as he sunk his teeth into your neck, your grip on him tightening. Even if you had only met Heeseung that night you already knew he had ruined sex with anyone else in the future, it would be only him for the rest of your existence.

Heeseung’s hips kept a slow pace, his soft groan was muffled while he fed from your neck. The intense pleasure coming from Heeseung’s movements juxtaposed the sharp pain on your neck, your post orgasm brain becoming even muddier. You felt Heeseung remove his fangs from your neck, placing kisses on the marks left behind while his hips picked up a faster pace. The sounds of your bodies moving together echoed throughout the room, your pants being interrupted by Heeseung’s voice in your ear giving you encouragements.

“There you go, that’s my good boy.”

“Knew I had to have you the second I laid my eyes on you.”

“Darling you tasted so good, did so well for me.”

“Be as loud as you can for me Y/N, don’t hold back.”

The familiar sensation from earlier came back, this time magnified by ten. You could feel your muscles tightening as you reached your climax, your grip on Heeseung’s shoulders becoming more tense.

“Hyung I’m close,” you whined out. His thrusts were precise and fast, aiming and nailing your g spot head on every time.

“How cute,” Heeseung’s low voice went straight to your hard cock, his hand wrapping around your length and stroking in tandem with his hips. He continued, “My good boy wants to cum for me a second time. Make a mess for me sweet boy, I’m right there with you.”

You reached a moment of euphoria, your entire body tightening up before you came all over Heeseung’s hand. You felt Heeseung reach his high because his thrusts stilled, his grip on your body tightened before he went slack. Your body slumped into his as you now began trying to catch your breath. You heard Heeseung let out a giggle as he held up your tired body.

“Nope you’re not getting off that easy.” Heeseung quickly flipped you onto your back below him, the speed shaking you awake. His body was bent over yours, he brought one of his hands up to your mouth and put his palm to your lips. It was the palm that was covered in your release, “lick it off baby, you’re helping me clean up.”

You quickly licked your release off his hand, holding eye contact with him the entire time so you could see his proud smirk. His lips graced yours once you finished, your entire body slugging back into the sheets below you. “I’ll be right back baby.”

Your eyelids felt heavy while you watched him get off his bed, making his way across the room while nude which gave you a shameless view of his body.

He returned momentarily with some bandaids, along with a glass of water. “Sit up for me darling,” he said as he sat down next to you, putting the glass of water into your hands once you were up right. You lazily drank from the cup as Heeseung applied the bandaids to the wounds on your neck. “It’s not too bad but better safe than sorry.”

It seemed the vampire’s entire demeanor had changed, his touches soft on your skin as he took your now empty cup and placed it elsewhere. He laid back next to you, pulling the covers over your bodies before pulling you closer to him. “How do you have so much energy?” You grumbled, looking up at the vampire to see his bright smile.

“I don’t get tired,” Heeseung’s hand carded through your hair and scratched your scalp as he started talking, making it very difficult to stay awake. He continued, “It’s that vampire stamina, I don’t need sleep or rest. I don’t eat food either, well besides blood but it doesn’t have to be human. I physically can sleep, I just don’t need it to function so it’s basically just a nap.”

“Does that mean you can go another round?” Your hand had been lazily tracing patterns onto the vampire’s cold skin, slowly moving down his torso. Your body was still sluggish from your two orgasms but seeing the devious glint in Heeseung’s eyes was lighting a flame to your body.

“I don’t think you can keep up with me baby” Heeseung roughly pulled the (H/C) strands on the back of your head, pulling you up to make direct eye contact with him. “But if you insist.”

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, the feeling of his fangs eliciting a high pitched whine from the back of your throat; you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

Authors Note: Hey it’s V sorry about deleting my old blog but I’ll bring back a majority of my old fics. If you enjoyed, thank you very much !!! These are v fun to make and help me take my mind off real life stuff lmao. That’s it for now, brb folks -V

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen x male reader #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x male reader

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grievedeeply · 4 months

Note

Not sure if you write him/have written, but could I ask for some dancing hcs for Raphael? like him dancing with his s/o

this is so cute..... i love raphael he's such an interesting character. thanks for the request and enjoy even if this is a little short!

gn!reader/tav

dancing with raphael headcanons

he is definitely into ballroom dancing

intimate and slow types of dances really get to him. he just loves being close to you, his hands on your hips

while he's this close, it makes it incredibly easy for him to tease you. he can get on your nerves really easily (affectionately in this sense)

whispers sweet nothings into your ears, promises of a long and wonderful life spent by his side

realistically we all know he wouldn't be the best partner in the world, but i think if he's actually going to feel something for someone, he's going to feel very intensely

so when he tells you these things, he really does mean it

he's a surprisingly good dancer, though

even faster paced dances are fun to him. intimate in a different way, but still special in his eyes

even if dancing isn't really your thing, he's going to reassure you that skill matters very little to him and that this is just something to do for fun!

even as a devil.... he wants things to be fun and entertaining to him sometimes

he isn't always going to be serious

he'll probably always be the one initiating these types of things and they are going to come out of nowhere

just pulls you in sooo easily and spins you around like you're someone of royalty y'know <3

raphael is a bit of an old fashioned man (it comes with age), and dancing is something he's always enjoyed

so getting to share it with you is something special even if he won't ever admit it

just dance with him every now and then and pretend to enjoy it even if you don't!

#bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #raphael bg3 x reader #bg3 raphael #bg3 raphael x reader #baldur's gate 3 x reader

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call-sign-shark · 4 months

Text

Savage Daughter || Shelby family x You

Summary: When the Shelby family gathers together, chaos is never far. Yet, for once, it's not the men who bring it but you, and soon the girls join you too. (based on Ekatarina Shelehova - Savage Daughter)

Words: 1.2k

Notes:

✞ This story is linked with the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes but can be read as a stand-alone.

Slipping your finger between your diamond choker and your skin, you took a big exhale — the expensive corset you wore for the occasion was crushing your ribcage. The sound of chatters, clinging glasses, and classical music might have been loud but all you could hear was your own pulse, beating in your temples faster and faster with each labored breathing.

Your crystal eyes scanned the room, looking for your husband but it seemed that he was also in distress, standing still behind Tommy with his gaze fixed upon an invisible spot on the wall. Arthur was nervously chewing the inside of his cheek, visibly as uncomfortable as you when surrounded by all these posh guests, and yet, he had no other choice but to keep playing the bodyguard for his younger brother.

"Mr. Shelby, what a wonderful party you're hosting here! Arrow House is wonderful, I reckon." An old, ugly gentleman, dressed in a suit more expensive than everything your parents had ever owned, said with his silly accent. If being honest, he was looking absolutely ridiculous with his ears too big and his triple chin far too fat for such a small bowtie. To play the Devil's advocate, your mocking thoughts were justified: the pig had tried to grope almost every woman he had talked with. And as if this previous fact didn't render him despicable enough, he had ignored Arthur as if he were part of the ballroom's furniture. Another sigh, louder this time, escaped from your lips at the painful sensation of the blisters behind your heels when they rubbed against your tight shoes.

When Arthur came back to you, one look at his pursed lips had been enough for you to guess that he had spent the last ten minutes keeping himself from strangling the impolite Mr. Dempsey.

"Fookin' bastard, can't even say a bloody 'hello' to me. I swore I should've cut his fucking —" Stopping mid-sentence, the lanky gangster suddenly frowned and tilted its head at the sight of you taking your high heels off, only half listening to him, "The hell you're doing, angel?"

"I'm taking my heels off, that's what I do." You replied, grunting as you undid the complicated laces that were climbing up your shinbones, "And I don't care if it ain't classy or decorous, these shoes are making my skin bleed and this damn corset is suffocating me!" Talking about the corset, you pulled on the delicate silky laces to tear them apart and free your body from this inhumane trap until all you were wearing was a thin white summer dress.

"Heaven, love," Arthur tried to interrupt as he noticed how a few outraged guests were already whispering together all the while glaring at you. Among them, Tommy Shelby's arctic iris.

"I'm dead serious: I'm trapped here among hypocrites, suffering in clothes their wives criticized when they saw me while I could be outside, peacefully enjoying the immense garden of the mansion. A garden which is, by the way, the only enjoyable feature of this golden cage. All of this only because Tom wants people to believe we're all getting along in the family, tsk." Arthur closed his mouth, unable to find something to retort to your murderous prose. Maybe that was why he looked at you silently instead, a glimmer of amusement shining in his still blue eyes. "What?" You finally asked, not comprehending why the lanky gangster was now smiling, his mustache slightly lifted on one side.

"Gimme these shits." With that being said, Arthur took your heels and corset from your hands before leaning above you and kissing your forehead with indescribable tenderness, completely obliterating the rest. "Now go," The gravel in his voice rumbled, "Go run barefoot and curse at sharp stones, I ain't going to pin your wings." Of course you felt suffocating, he thought, for he knew you didn't belong here. Just like him. But while he had to remain somewhat near to his brother for the whole evening, Arthur never wished to inflict such torment on your savage soul: you were born to dance around fires, in the curves of old bones, or look for omens in the falling of feathers. Not to sip on champagne and boast about your riches with aristocratic ladies.

"Really?" You inquired, the fierceness of your face softening at your husband's surprising —and understanding— reaction. Arthur winked at you for a sole reply before turning around and barking at those who were still observing you with a loud "The fook you're looking at me wife ay? Go back to your chit-chat!". It had been the final nail in Tommy's coffin, who pinched his nose as if to stop a dawning headache — a headache that bore your name.

Offering one shark-like and insolent smile to little King Shelby, you left the ballroom running barefoot and only stopped when you found yourself in the middle of the garden, slowly spinning on yourself. With your doll-like face facing the night sky, you relished the sensation of the fresh breeze softly grazing your skin in welcoming strokes. A cheerful giggle fell from your plump lips as rays of moonlight illuminated your dainty frame like a myriad of motherly hands ready to catch you.

"Hey! Devil! You're nothing but trouble, you know that?!" A feminine voice erupted behind you, making you stop dancing and glance from where the soft lilt was coming. What was your surprise when your gaze met Ada's cunning smile! Beside her Polly was standing, her frail arms crossed on her bosom but her ebony eyes displaying an excitement she hadn't felt in years.

"I can't help it, Ada. I'm my mother's savage daughter!" You exclaimed, opening your arms to fake a pretentious bow — a move that stirred a sincere laugh from your sister-in-law.

"Tommy's mad." She said through her grin.

"Tommy's always mad. Why don't you join me?" At your offering, Ada side-eyed her dear Aunt, not sure if she could momentarily strip from the elegant Mrs. Thorne mask and be herself for once. For fuck's sake! Can't they fucking behave?! Can't your fucking wife stop fucking everything up just once eh?! Tommy's voice was roaring from the inside of Arrow House, just what Ada and Polly needed to make up their mind.

Freeing themselves from fancy hats, oppressive clothes, and painful high heels, both Polly and Ada joined you in the middle of the garden, the two of them grabbing one of your hands to form a round dance.

We are our mother's savage daughters, you sang.

I'm not joking Arthur! Did you think about what people are going to say?!

We are our mother's savage daughters, Ada followed. Her voice swirled up to the sky, each note bringing her closer to her mom she barely knew.

We will not cut our hair! We will not lower our voice! Polly's cheered louder, and as she did she was sixteen again, walking barefoot in the mud with a horse's rein in one hand and flowers in the other.

And deep in our bones, the old songs are waking So sing them with voices of thunder and rain, the wind carried your chant away. So far away that somewhere on the road, one Romani woman, fierce and beautiful, felt the wild drums of nature beating within her as she braided the hair of her adorable little girl.

"Are you okay Mom?" She asked, concerned by her mother's sudden stop.

"Yes, Katie. Yes, I am."

Esme smiled.

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick@kxnnxy @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd

#Arthur Shelby #Peaky Blinders #Arthur Shelby x Reader #Peaky Blinders imagine #Ada Shelby x Reader #Polly Gray x Reader #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby x oc #Paul Anderson #Heaven Shelby #Peaky blinders oc #Heaven In Your Eyes

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pastshadows · 2 months

Text

Shadows of the Past

Chapter 10: Eclipsing Shadows

Summary: Astarion remained a spawn after ending the reign of Cazador with your help. After defeating the Netherbrain, you and Astarion stay together, moving forward with your lives. You reside in a small house in the city. One night, after an awkward and concerning interaction with him, he disappears without a trace.

Setting: Post End-Game. Mostly canon compliant.

Word Count: 6.6K

Content: Explicit 18+ - intended for mature audiences.

Warnings: [Additional tags will be added, but expect mature content / read at your own risk.]

Spoilers. Mentions of in-game missable content. Violence. Sexual Assault [Implied/attempted sexual assault: Chapter 7]. Past Trauma. Murder. Death. Longing. Sexual themes. Smut. Blood drinking. Angst. Innuendos. High use of sarcasm. Completely fabricated camp interactions. Panic attacks. Anxiety.

64.media.tumblr.com

Please note:

There are mentions of Astarion's trauma in this chapter.

Mr. Blackwell’s green eyes look like murky poison puddles that drip with corrosive contempt. His burgundy garb is wrinkled, creased and stained, clearly unchanged for some time. Whatever remains of his sparse, dingy-grey hair is slick with grease, dishevelled, and unkempt. He’s in a plight of disrepair not often seen in the noble class, eliciting wide-eyed stares and snickers from the crowd in the ballroom.

Guards are warily observing the onset of the altercation with avid attention. Their hands instinctively drift and sit precariously on the hilts of their weapons. You can hear the clinking of metal amour as they inch closer, ready to spring into action. From what you know of Mr. Blackwell, he is well-connected and an influential figure in Waterdeep. If you allow the quarrel to escalate, the guards will likely take heed of his requests and pay little attention to yours. You must tread carefully, a daunting prospect as your palms heat and your temper bubbles under your skin like an overboiling cauldron.

Your eyes scan the mob roving through the ballroom, subtly looking for Astarion. Aldous spoke to his father about the pale Elf with red eyes. You cannot allow Mr. Blackwell to gleam a view of Astarion. Quick and practiced, you take inventory of all possible exits and escapes while you count the guards.

Your neglect to answer him only irritates Mr. Blackwell further, and he crams himself into your line of sight. He is not a small man and towers over you. “Did you hear me, girl?” He squalls, gruff and strident. His hands slam into the wall beside your head with an ear-splitting boom as he barricades you in. “What have you done with my son, you fucking miscreant!”

Girl? Miscreant?! Why did I tell Astarion that murder was off the table?

His fetid breath feathers over your face. An inhuman, snake-like grin splits your lips as your adrenaline spikes. You’ve rivalled devils in the Hells, eradicated a vampire lord, euthanized countless fiends, and rained death down on hordes of shadow-cursed creatures. You will not be intimidated by the likes of this cretin.

“Mr. Blackwell,” you purr unenthusiastically, straightening your back, squaring your shoulders, and bedecking your face with a saintly visage. “Welcome home. It’s good to see you. What’s this about your son? Is Aldous missing?”

“Don’t play stupid, sorceress.” Mr. Blackwell roars. His face reddens further as he descends deeper into his fit of rage. Blue-hued veins pop from his forehead and neck as he snarls in your face with bared teeth. Your palms heat until blisteringly hot, and you resist the urge to shove him. “I know it was you. Where is he? Where is my boy?!”

Dead, and rightfully so.

The guards are getting antsy, shuffling from foot to foot, and the other patrons gape at the dispute before them. A crowd of onlookers is starting to form behind Mr. Blackwell. They stare and laugh with gleeful tittering as the show plays out. Your heart crashes against your sternum, playing your ribs like a drum. Your blood is broiling in your veins, and your fingers twitch with the urge to incinerate the threat.

Where in the Hells is Astarion? He would have heard this as soon as it started. You’re surprised and infinitely relieved that a dagger has not skewered Mr. Blackwell yet, but his absence is starting to make you uneasy. Have the guards already apprehended him? Did Mr. Blackwell recognize and have him arrested? Astarion would not go quietly, and you haven’t heard or seen any evidence of a struggle elsewhere. Astarion is far from stupid. He may know that his presence will only magnify the issue, but it’s unlikely to stop him from stepping in. You grumble under your breath at the thought. No matter what he’s seen you do or how powerful you are, Astarion protects you as if you’re a fragile wildflower, but you are not fragile like a flower; you’re fragile like an unstable explosive.

I protect him with the same ferocity, and I will never stop. Perhaps we are even.

You lean close to Mr. Blackwell, almost nose to nose, and growl under your breath, “You would do well to get out of my face lest I introduce you to the fire of my ancestors.”

Mr. Blackwell gnashes his teeth, narrowing his eyes as his forehead pinches, “You dare to threaten me?!”

Oh, yes. I dare.

Your temper is getting away with you. A hand clasps Mr. Blackwell’s shoulder, and you almost lurch forward, preparing for the fight that is sure to ensue, until you see Gale, wearing an elegant and regal mauve suit with one arm behind his back. You’ve never been so damn relieved not to see Astarion.

Gale’s face is composed with a cordial smile, and he laughs kindly as if nothing is amiss. You see the pink current of the Weave wash over Mr. Blackwell and recognize Charm Person as Gale casts imperceptibly with naught but a murmur.

“Of course not, Mr. Blackwell,” Gale assures in a charitable tenor. “Such a thing would be crass. Isn’t that right, my friend?” Gale prompts you. Gale is skilled, but his charisma is not nearly as honed as yours, and you recognize the petition for assistance charming the man.

Cloaking your voice in an alluring baritone, you put your silver tongue to work, “Quite right, Gale. I would never dare utter such ill-portent to our very good friend here.”

Mr. Blackwell’s eyes glass over as the spell and your charm ensnare him, dousing his rage like water to flame. Mr. Blackwell leans back, tottering on his legs, and mumbles through numb lips, “Of course not. I must have been mistaken. Please, forgive the outburst.”

“All is forgiven,” you shrug while revelling in the influence you have over feeble minds and continue your coercion. “Mr. Blackwell was just telling me he was on his way home. He is ever so weary from his travels. We should not retain him, Gale.”

“Yes.” Mr. Blackwell stammers, blinking hard as your suggestion plants and grows roots. “Yes, I was just about to retire for the night.”

Gale nods curtly to Mr. Blackwell while offering you his arm, “Get some rest. We should be going as well. It’s getting quite late. Dawn is almost upon us, after all.”

Taking Gale’s offered arm, he leads you away from the onlookers ogling you. The guards have relaxed as tensions decrease, but they still watch you with a keen eye. Gale’s warning starts to sink in.

Dawn? Fuck! Where is Astarion? He must get home.

Your grip slips from Gale, but he catches it and pats your arm, “Keep calm. Your panic will only further alarm the guards, and I fear they will not be as easily swayed as Mr. Blackwell. We are quite a team, but we cannot charm them all without someone taking notice. Astarion is waiting for us outside, just beyond the grounds.”

“Astarion is outside?” You query with an arched brow.

Gale nods, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with people who take notice of him. Once he’s managed to excuse himself from the tedious small talk, he leans close. “I sought him out as soon as I arrived. He is ever so antagonistic and easily provoked when it comes to you. The man would brave the sun if he thought you were in danger. It was considerably difficult to convince him it was best to leave it to me. I apologize I did not come to your aid first. I know you have more sense than he and would a keep cool-head. When I found him, the idiot had already drawn his damn weapons. Always violence first with him, isn’t it?”

You swallow hard and keep your mouth firmly shut. Gale knows you, but perhaps not as well as he thinks. You would have incinerated that man as soon as he stuck his face in yours, guards and onlookers be damned. You do not take life unnecessarily, but you take it without guilt when there is a threat to your friends. Mr. Blackwell is a danger to Astarion, and you can be impetuous when it comes to him.

“Thank you, Gale.” You breathe a long sigh as relief sates your nerves. “How did you know?”

“Mr. Blackwell came to the manor looking for you. I tried to appease him, but I am neither as intimidating nor convincing as you are, and he stormed off before I could get more than a word or two in. I knew he would go scouring the parties for Aldous and more than likely come across you.” Gale chuckles, “I’ve been through several of these celebrations tonight. I should have known to go to the most extravagant one first.”

“Mr. Blackwell will be back.” You point out, mouth twisting into a grimace as your mind tries to piece together some semblance of a plan. “We have not heard the last of this.”

“No,” Gale murmurs. “We most definitely have not. It is my hope that he doesn’t realize I charmed him tonight. If he does, it will only compound his fervour. We will have to tread these waters carefully. If this reaches the Masked Lords of Waterdeep…” Gale trails off with a sullen shake of his head, “May the dice roll in our favour.”

Your eyes bulge. You don’t know much about the government of Waterdeep, but everyone has heard of the masked lords. A ruling council whose identities were well hidden and carefully guarded.

“Could he really do that? Take it to that height?” You wheeze breathlessly as an invisible hand grips your lungs and clenches, “The Lords of Waterdeep surely wouldn’t concern themselves with such a trivial matter of a missing boy. Would they?”

Gale shrugs, “I wish I could say. Mr. Blackwell is exceptionally renowned. It’s plausible that he will go to great lengths, and I’m unsure how far his reach extends. I will do what I can to protect you and Astarion, but even my influence has limits.”

The brisk air bristles against your skin, giving you goosebumps or perhaps that’s due to Gale’s mention of the lords, as you and Gale continue your hastened retreat. Gale takes long strides, making you trot beside him to keep pace since you are considerably shorter than he. What is with men and walking as fast as they can? You would ask Gale to slow down, but you’re in a hurry to get away. The rapid click, click, click of your heels on the stone makes you uneasy, as it sounds like a clock counting down your final moments.

There’s an eerie reticence in the courtyard this evening, as silent as the sheeted dead, as if the city beyond these stone walls has ceased to exist. A ghostly wind causes your modest steel-silver dress to flutter around your knees. The scent of incoming rain hangs thick in the air while drab clouds swarm the sky as a storm coming off the ocean makes landfall, and the weather fronts interact.

Magic glows in your eyes and fingertips as you practice the various spells in your repertoire. Your fingers are a spectacular florid ballet, the Weave tiptoeing over the pads as you rehearse the movements for Sunbeam, Chain Lightning, Cloudkill, and Blight and recite the incantations in your mind like a sermon without ultimately casting as you drill yourself. Weaving the intricate web of the Weave is ingrained in your soul, and this is not an exercise you need to practice, but the recent events and Gale’s mention of the Masked Lords have caused anxiety to breed in your muscles. You need to make sure you’re ready for war. You’re an incredibly gifted sorceress with the ferocity of your draconic ancestors dwelling in your blood. You can be death incarnate, and you will be if it comes to it. You will raze this damn city to the ground if it means to harm Astarion. No one will hurt him again if your lungs still draw breath.

You’re glowing so brightly, the Weave shimmering around you like an aurora, that you don’t notice that day has fallen victim to night when Astarion breezes into the courtyard. He looks at you, brandishes his dagger with a finesse that never fails to impress and descends into a defensive stance. He observes the surroundings with an acute eye and gives you a questioning look after he’s assessed there’s no danger.

With a quick step you learned from him, you pivot and toss a very weak Fire Bolt straight toward him. Astarion whirls, his propensity for dexterity evident in his movement, avoiding the spell.

“Impressive agility. I’m glad I taught you something at least, but what in the Hells was that for?” He smirks with a tsk and clicks his tongue. “At least, I ask before I bite. I am civil - unlike you.”

“Just making sure you’re not getting sloppy,” you giggle with a virtuous shrug.

“If that would have hit me, I would have deserved it,” he chuckles and glowers at you with an amused grin. “That was far too slow and weak. I did not even feel the heat from it. You can do infinitely better than that. Even I can cast that cantrip. Come on, darling. If you’re going to spar with me, you could at least give me the decency of a challenge.”

“A challenge, hm?” You smirk wickedly. Sparring with him isn’t a new activity. When you lived with him, you two would often spar long into the night until you were both sweating and tired. He craves thrill and danger as much as you, and you keep each other on your toes. “As you wish.”

Astarion’s rapscallion smile and the way he bends lightly at the knees indicate that he welcomes this exchange. The Weave brightens around you, and you cast Fire Bolt repeatedly in quick succession with a little more power and speed behind it with lithe steps. Astarion swings his body, nimbly ducking, dodging and avoiding everything you throw at him as he advances toward your position until he’s in front of you and takes you into his arms while he laughs.

“You caught me once. It tickled.” He glances toward a small burn mark on his shirt, “If anyone has gotten sloppy, it’s you.”

“What you call sloppy, I call careful casting,” you giggle.

“Sloppy,” he corrects, narrowing those scarlet eyes glinting vibrantly with excitement and adrenaline. “You’re already a veritable sovereign when it comes to magic. How about we work on expanding your skillset?” He twirls a dagger at his side without so much as looking at it, catches the blade between his fingers, and settles the hilt in your hand with a devious grin. Astarion takes a few steps backward and motions you forward, “Come on. Attack me.”

You stare at the dagger, your fingers sliding over the metal hilt, “You want me to come at you with a knife? Have you gone completely mad? There are training dummies right there.”

“Oh yes, those will surely help you.” Astarion rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue with audible disapproval of your reluctance. “I am positive your attacker will stand stationary for you so you can stab them - if you ask nicely enough. You will learn nothing from those.”

It’s unlikely that you’ll hurt him. Hells, if you did somehow manage to so much as nick him, Astarion would probably be proud of you, but you stare at the shiny steel with trepidation, “What if I cut you?”

Astarion’s head tilts back, and he laughs loudly, “Oh, you are adorable. Thank you for your concern, but I assure you, I will be fine. You’re more likely to hurt yourself, and if you somehow do cut me, what does it matter? It’s not like you can kill me further.” He giggles, “Now, remember your footwork and keep the sharp pointy end directed toward me and not yourself, love.”

Well, multiclassing never hurts.

Slipping off your sandals, you recall everything he’s ever taught you or tried to, at least. Bending your knees and rolling your weight into your heels for balance, you lunge toward him. You and he spar while he deflects your attacks with an ease that vexes you, and he barks various instructions - straighten your back, keep your weight centred, don’t lean forward, and use your momentum until your heart beats hard, a prisoner in a cage constructed of bone. Exhausted, you sit on the ground, gulping down ragged breaths.

Astarion crosses his arms with a chuckle, “Done, are you? Well, I’ve certainly seen worse - from a babe. Do not go getting into any knife fights without me. You will surely get yourself run through.”

“Astarion,” you throw your head backward exaggeratedly with the back of your hand against your forehead, “you wound me. I think I could rival you with one or two more lessons.”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “One or two centuries of lessons, perhaps. You stick to magic. I will happily do any required stabbing.”

The man doesn’t need to breathe, and you know it, but he’s not even sweating. You frown at him while wiping your brow, “Could you please pretend to be winded at least?”

“Apologies. Where are my manners?” Astarion drops to his knees and gives you a gentle shove, sending you sprawling to your back. Crawling over you, he mimics your heavy breathing with a smug smirk, “Better?”

Rolling your eyes, you stick your tongue out at him frivolously, “Kiss me, you fool.”

“Blood running a little hot, sweetheart?” He purrs sensuously, pressing his body into you, grabbing your thigh and guiding it around his waist, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

Astarion’s lips mould to yours, cool silk against your heated pout and as delightful to the senses as plunging into cool water on an arid day. His tongue traces your lower lip, enticing your mouth to part. His taste is rich and hypnotic, a firewater of desire and good Gods, it’s intoxicating. His fingers trail up the delicate skin of your upper thigh with firm pressure, leaving blazing trails of icy fire, coalescing between your legs and making you throb. Bolts of electricity amble up your spine in a slow progression, making your body shiver awkwardly as bumps rise over your skin.

Astarion wraps an arm around your waist and hauls you to your feet, tugging your dress back into place, and you give him a quizzical look.

“Gale has returned,” Astarion says, smoothing your hair down. “That man has the worst timing. Also, a bath. You smell.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you groan at his candidness. With a gentle shove, you grumble under your breath and stalk away from him to your room.

There’s a chill in the air that sinks its teeth into even his already frosty skin. Winter is drawing near. The trees have shed their leaves, preparing for dormancy, and the ground is stiff beneath his boots. He’s tired and filthy, spending much of his days lately in caves or held up in shabby barns or abandoned shacks during the day as he continues to run from the only love he has ever known. He has been lucky so far. He can often make it to the next godforsaken hovel to find shelter if he travels fast enough through the night, but as he progresses, the little towns are growing further apart. One of these days, he may not be able to find shelter before dawn, and the sun will consume him - a rather painful demise for a vampire.

Before Astarion enters the ramshackle tavern in this puny rural town in the middle of nowhere, he casts his eyes skyward and looks at the silvery moon as he does every night. If nothing else, he can take comfort in the fact that she is somewhere, under the same stars, and maybe, just maybe, she is looking at the moon, too.

The tavern is as destitute as the rest of this town, with low ceilings and lit by only a few oil lamps, giving it a gloomy atmosphere. It’s quiet. No minstrel or bard plays music here, and the only sounds that can be heard are the dragging of flagons across the rough tabletops and the grotesque gulps and burps of the few downtrodden labourers and drunks. It smells of mildew, fetid spirits and vomit. He crinkles his nose. He usually mimics breathing out of habit in public, but for this place, he will make an exception.

The floor is absurdly tacky, and even he can’t help the sound his boots make as they peel off it. He orders a pint and sits in a rickety chair that wobbles underneath him. Calling the ale rotten would be an understatement. He’s never tasted anything quite so vile in all his two centuries, and his diet once consisted of dead, putrid rats. It’s hard to say which is worse.

A pair of ne’er-do-wells attempted to extort some coin out of him by betting they could juggle more daggers than he. Fools. Even if blind drunk, his dexterity would be vastly superior to theirs. They could scarcely juggle two - child’s play for him. They left quickly with superficial lacerations to their fingers and hands. He wishes she had been here to witness this. They would have had a good laugh. She always loved watching him.

Even though the ale is terrible, the little table is starting to fill with emptied flagons. Tonight, every iota of him aches loudly in the silence of her absence. He does not need to trance, not since the tadpole no longer wriggles in his skull, but he will, if only so he can fall into a memory where they are sure to meet.

His vision is blurred, and his mind thinks of nothing but her. What would she be doing right now? Reading by the fire and sipping wine? Trying to mend her clothes and doing a terrible job now that he is no longer there to do it for her? Sleeping in their bed? Would she be alone, or would Halsin or Gale have come to console her? With him out of the picture, perhaps she could find happiness with one of them. The thought makes his very bones throb, and his fingers wrack through his hair, unsettled by the notion of any but him with her in their bed.

Astarion empties the next flagon and frowns while he grinds it across the table, clinking it against its fallen brethren.

Gale would be the most likely. Gale was a powerful wizard, but he had always been fascinated by her innate authority over the Weave. Where Gale had to read books, scrolls, practice and study spells, she could simply cast them reflexively with little effort. Early in their adventure, Gale had tried to beguile her, boasting his control of the Weave with a demonstration. Astarion watched with curiosity to see if she would reciprocate the obvious flirtation. She kept a straight face, smiling politely and copying as instructed until the foray was completed. She walked away with her arms crossed and a hard roll of her eyes in exasperation while Gale watched her all dew-eyed. It made him snicker at the time.

Despite his prowess, wealth and renown, Gale would probably bore her into an early grave. She craved excitement, risk, Hells, even danger. She needed someone not afraid to get into a little, or a lot, of trouble. She would not be satisfied sitting idle in a library for the rest of her days. She loves fiercely and deserves to be loved fiercely in return with untamed, unbridled passion.

Hot baths. Animals. Fresh fruit. Red roses. Long walks through moonlight forests at night. All the things she loves flit through his mind.

Her face appears in his blurry vision, laughing as she runs through the forest with him hot on her heels. Her modest pastel green dress waves in the wind. She casts Misty Step and disappears from his view. She is not quiet in the forest and knows it, but she pops out from behind the large trunk of a tree and yells, “Boo!” He pretends to be startled, but she doesn’t believe his facade and dissolves into adorable giggles.

She strolls up to him, smiling brightly, still laughing, and the stars themselves descend from the heavens and twinkle in her eyes. Her voice, majestic like a siren’s song, fills his ears as she says, “You’re an adorable idiot. I love you, Astarion.”

He smiles, blinks, and the memory dissipates. He tries to hold onto it, but it withdraws despite his efforts to keep her with him.

A woman’s voice catches his attention, “Stop, please. I said no.”

In Astarion’s drunken daze, he almost hears her voice, but it’s a hint too breathy and modulated. He narrows his eyes and tries to peer past the film of inebriation, mucking up his vision and making him see double. A young woman sits at the bar, and a man much older and ragged-looking pets her hair with clumsy fingers, muttering slurred, vulgar innuendos. She tries to push him away from her, but it’s futile. The man stumbles and chortles, taking another noisy sip of his ale, missing his mouth and washing his beard with it.

He cringes with a roll of his eyes. This is not his business. He does not fancy himself a hero, and he is not foolish enough to get caught up in such a quandary. He peers into his empty flagon. A deep, dark well of sorrow gazes back at him from the bottom. He should leave and return to the inn, where he can slip into his trance and be with her until the sun dips below the horizon.

“I said stop!” The woman’s voice rings out higher, making his ears twitch and grating on his nerves. It’s so close to hers that he has trouble reminding himself it’s not. It can’t possibly be because he... he left her.

He looks around the tavern, hoping someone else will step in, but no one even lifts their sagged heads to assess the situation. He leans back in his unsteady chair, and his fingers rap against the table with hard, rhythmic thumps portraying his increasing frustration.

He is no hero.

“No! I said no!”

Is no one going to do anything? Really? He growls, clenching his jaw and grating his teeth. The woman’s voice is just too close to hers. It’s making his fingers twitch over the hilt of his dagger, and his muscles tense.

“No! Please, stop. Help!”

The woman’s shoes drag across the floor, and he’s already out of his chair, stalking toward the commotion with a haunting scowl. He ignores the itch to draw his blade. If she taught him anything, it’s that talking is often all that is necessary, but if all else fails, he has no issue with killing.

He is a little peckish.

He stands beside the woman with his practiced liar’s smile, “My friend, how lovely to see you again. Funny we should meet here of all places.”

The man glowers at him through droopy, glassy eyes, releasing the woman’s arm. The woman simply stares at him, her cheeks tear-streaked and ruddy, unsure of what to do.

Gods, these people are dull. All she must do is play along. He attempts to make his intentions plain, “Allow me to walk you home. We can catch up on the way.”

“That lady is coming home with me.” The man snarls, poking his shoulder with a finger that he can’t even keep straight.

This man would be easy pickings indeed if it came to it.

“No.” Astarion stands tall, squaring his shoulders and layering on his most intimidating intonation, “I will be taking her home. If you try to stop me, I know a thousand ways to gut you before you can so much as blink. Do not tempt me.”

“Ah Hells,” the man snickers after sizing him up and stumbles back, “She’s not worth the trouble. She’s all yours.”

He hoped the man would force his hand, but this is probably for the best. He is looking forward to resting indoors today. It has been many days since he was able to wait out the day in a room with a bed that did not smell like some form of livestock.

The woman turns to him with big, round eyes full of adoration and grabs his arm, “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Astarion doesn’t quite know how to react, and he does not like the way she is eyeing him. He pulls his arm out of her grasp, “I’ll walk you home. Let’s go.”

The night feels too silent and still around him as he walks the dim streets. The woman follows on his heels, blabbering and stuttering her praises and gratitude. He doesn’t speak another word to her as he fights his mind. Emotions are stirring in his head. He's unsettled, angry even, and he doesn’t understand why. At least the walk isn’t long in a small place like this.

As soon as the woman opens her door, he turns to walk away.

“Won’t you come in?” Her eyes slink over him, and he feels revulsion. No one but her should be looking at him like that, and it only increases his discomfort further, “I didn’t catch your name.”

“I didn’t give it,” he snaps back gruffly.

He keeps walking until he feels the woman’s hand clutch the back of his shirt, her fingernails grazing over his scars. Those old emotions flood him - fear, loathing, disgust, and he whirls with a fanged snarl.

“Don’t fucking touch me.”

“Oh! I-I’m sorry, Astarion.” Her hand recoils from his back, and she jumps away, pressing herself to the headboard with eyes rounded in confusion. “I didn’t mean to upset you. Do you want me to go?”

Shit.

He let his mind wander off with him, and the memory bled into reality. Blinking hard, he reorients himself. He’s safe in Gale’s manor. He is with her. It was her touching his back - at his request, of course.

He jumps off the bed, flexing his hands as he paces the room. He needs time to get his head straight, but the raw anguish in her eyes is gnawing at him. This is why he left in the first place. He keeps hurting her when the storm sweeps him away in a flash flood, and he’s lost in it.

“I’ll go and give you some time.” She slips into her housecoat, cinching it at her waist and opens the door. Before she closes it, she turns to him, “I’m so sorry, Astarion. If you need space for the night, I understand. I will rest in my room tonight.”

He can’t get his godsdamned mouth to move or his tongue to form words. He stands idly as she closes the door behind her. He listens to her bare feet pad down the hallway at a quick trot and then the click of her door closing. His hands wrack through his hair, fingers curling into it. He knows better than to let his mind drift aimlessly, although the fact that it did roam is an interesting development. He’s used to being able to think of nothing but withstanding the sensation of her hands on his back. He’s improving, albeit slowly.

He laces his hands behind his head, arches his back and stretches his tight chest, inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly. Astarion closes his eyes and shakes out his arms. He feels panicked and tense. His skin squirms as if snakes are writhing below the surface. Patrolling his bedroom, he tries to mollify his unease, taking deep breaths of air he doesn’t need. The memory has agitated him for some reason that he can’t quite put his finger on.

His ears twitch as they catch suppressed weeping from her room. Fuck, he’s upset her. This was not her fault. It’s been a while since he went and fucked things up like he always does. He leans on the wall and closes his eyes. Did he make a mistake returning? For months, his singular goal was to find her, but now he wonders if this was selfish. He could not stand living without her, but she may have been better without him.

Astarion is sliding down an icy hill made of doubt, and he can’t stop his descent. Has he doomed her to a life sharing his pain? What does he have to offer her other than his unconditional love? The shadows have claimed him once more.

No.

He can’t let himself fall back into old patterns. She can handle his darkness.

The silence of this room without her heartbeat is dark and heavy. She should be here with him. A chill like an electric bolt runs down his spine at the sight of the empty room when he opens his eyes. It reminds him of when he left, a year as nightmarish as the one he spent in that tome, alone and hungry. He aches to hold her.

He takes long strides and taps on her door lightly.

“Are you okay, Astarion?” She sniffles, trying hard to confine the tears, making her eyes shine.

“I’m fine. Come here.” He wraps his arms around her, kissing her forehead and pressing his cheek against her. She hugs him awkwardly, more awkwardly than he hugged her the first time they did this. She keeps her hands off him, arms stiff at her sides. “It’s okay. You can touch me.”

She hesitates before placing her hands on his waist. He kisses her temple, gently grabs her arms and guides them around him, “A proper hug, yes? You can touch my back, love. It’s alright.”

He can feel the warmth of her hands hovering over his back, unsure, but slowly press into him, and she hugs him tightly. He’s surprised to find that it soothes the agitation. The spring coiled around his chest, constricting it, dissipates in her arms. He takes a deep breath to test how good the looseness feels.

“Come back to our room, hm? I will explain what happened.”

“You don’t have to explain,” she murmurs against him.

“I know,” he rubs her back, “but I want to - if you’re willing to hear it, of course.”

“Always.”

They sit on the bed as he describes the memory in as much detail as possible. She stays quiet as she always did, waiting patiently when he must take a moment to collect himself, offering him her hand. When something he recalls upsets him further, she squeezes his fingers, grounding him and encouraging him to take a break - when and if he needs to.

“I don’t know why it agitated me so much. It made me afraid,” he rasps faintly with a shaky breath as his brows pinch together, perplexed. It’s still troubling him. “Her touching my back was not the only reason, but I can’t put my finger on it.”

She nods with a contemplative gaze. Her beautiful doe-eyes blink as she ponders, and the candlelight scintillates in them. She grabs a blanket and pats her lap, “Do you want to put your head in my lap?”

He smiles. She always knows exactly what he needs. Astarion rests his head on her legs, and she covers him with the blanket, making sure his back and scars are entirely cloaked. Tucking it around him, like he tucks her in at night to ensure it doesn’t slip.

Rubbing his arm, she keeps her voice to a solacing whisper, “Do you want to know what I think, or would you rather I just listen?”

She has always been keenly observant and deeply perceptive. Often able to gleam the tiniest subtleties in inflection, tone or body language. It is what makes her a master at persuasion and intimidation. Her insight is as boundless as the cosmos. If anyone can help him shed light on this, it’s her. If he is to heal, he needs to know what provokes these feelings.

“I have gone over it in my mind time and time again,” he sighs. “I cannot figure it out myself. Tell me what you think.”

“Stop me at any point if you no longer wish to hear it,” she urges. “May I hug you closer?”

With the blanket covering his back and scars, he feels protected and secure. He nods, “Yes.”

She curls around him. Her warmth seeps into him, forcing back the gloom. “You said you did not like the way she looked at you. You mentioned it twice. What look did she give you, and what did it remind you of?”

Flashes of the woman’s greedy eyes play out in his mind. She stared at him as if she wanted to devour and lose herself in him. She stared at him like he was her saviour. She stared at him like they used to stare at him before he brought them to Cazador.

Hells.

Will he ever stop being astounded with how clever she is? She’s not telling him what she thinks. She’s bringing his attention to details he skimmed over so he can work it out himself.

“It… it reminded me of the way my victims used to look at me,” his voice quivers and cracks, tears spring to his eyes, rivulets rolling out the corners. Good Gods, his body is trembling as he fights to keep his emotions from giving way. “The bloody dingy tavern, the way she simply trusted me to walk her home, the quiet, dark streets and the ardent lust in her eyes… It all felt like I was back to doing his bidding as if I was the fucking rake again.”

She rescinds her pressure on him slightly. He used to hate being touched when he felt like this, but not anymore, as long as it’s her touching him. He pulls her back around him. His body shakes more violently now as he continues to fight the overwhelming emotions.

“You don’t have to fight, Astarion. Don’t be afraid to break. We all fall.” She soothes him with an almost ethereal voice like an angel whispering, “I’ve got you. For as long as you need. I’ve always got you.”

Sobs wrack his body, tears streaming down his face, and he falls to pieces in her arms. She’s not close enough like this. His body is painfully bare without her skin on his. She is the light that drives the shadows back. She is sunshine. She is his. He shrugs off the blanket with haste. She gasps at his quick movement, and his fingers find the hem of her nightdress.

She stops him with a confused look, “Astarion, what-”

“I don’t need it,” he chokes out, hoarse and urgent. “Not with you. Not anymore. I want to feel you. Will you let me?”

She removes her nightdress and opens her arms with a smile, tears streaming down her face. She wraps her arms around him, limbs cocooning his body, and pulls him securely to her, his bare back against her warm chest, choking away the fear.

With her, he is seen. He is understood. He is safe.

“I love you, Kamena. Ai armiel telere maenen hir.” He speaks to her through sobs in Elven, their mother tongue, meaning “You hold my heart forever.”

“I love you too, Astarion. Ai armiel telere maenen hir,” she chimes with a featherlight kiss to his shoulder.

Safe in her arms, he shatters and breaks.

Thank you to all those who read/like/comment/follow/reblog/etc. I'm forever thankful for the support. I've loved writing since I was a child but have never been confident enough to post anything for others to read. The encouragement I've received has been positively incredible, and it's been helping me through some hard times in my life - sincerely thank you so much! :)

Chapters Master List - Shadows of the Past

AO3: Crossposted

If you're interested, I also write fanfic for Ascended Astarion x Spawn Tav - Fangs and Fractured Hearts

Small Notes:

We did name Tav in this chapter. I apologize if it's not well received but I think it will make senes going forward. I did try to do it in a natural-ish way.

#astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion x you #astarion x mc #astarion #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #shadows of the past #astarion x oc #named tav #astarion x named tav

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